Read The Last of the Mohicans. James Fenimore Cooper is the last of the Mohicans to read. Chingachgook and Hawkeye go for help

"The Last of the Mohicans. Part 2."

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

Strange vocation,” said Hawkeye and grinned. - All my 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 road, which we will set off at dawn, before the makuases stir.

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

Alice smiled. She glanced at Hayward and blushed, 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 plight of the fugitives. Cora also wished to support her sister. David, who always adhered to strict rules in singing, first gave the singers the tone, using his tuning fork.

A solemn chant poured out; sometimes young girls leaned over a book and increased their resonant voices, sometimes they lowered them so that the sound of water turned into a dull accompaniment to songs. The natural taste and true hearing of David led the singers. He measured the strength of the voices with the size of the narrow cave, each crack, each hollow of which was filled with soulful sounds. The Indians looked at the rocks with such close attention that it seemed that they themselves turned into stones.

The scout at first sat, indifferently resting his chin on his hand, but little by little his stern features softened. Perhaps the hunter's mind resurrected childhood memories, quiet days when he heard the same psalms from his mother's lips. The forest dweller's pensive eyes softened, tears rolled down his weather-beaten cheeks, although he was more accustomed to worldly storms than to manifestations of spiritual awe. One of those low, fading sounds rushed by, which the ear drinks in with greedy delight, as if realizing that this pleasure will now be interrupted ... And suddenly there was a cry, not like 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. This was followed by complete silence; it seemed as if even the waters of the Glenn had stopped in horror.

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

What is this? Duncan asked loudly.

Neither Hawkeye nor the Indians answered. They listened, apparently expecting a repetition of the cry, and silently expressed their astonishment. At last they spoke quickly and earnestly among themselves in the Delaware dialect. At the end of their conversation, Uncas cautiously slipped out of the far 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 over thirty years. I thought that all the cries of the Indians, all the animal voices, were familiar to my ears, but now I see that I was just a vain, presumptuous person.

Is this not the war cry of the warriors, not the howl with which they try to frighten their enemies? Cora asked, calmly lowering her veil over her face, while her younger sister was visibly agitated.

No, no, now there was an ominous, tremendous sound, and there was something unnatural in it. If you ever heard the battle cry of the Indians, you would never mistake it for anything else ... Well, Uncas? - again, in Delaware, the scout addressed the young Mohican who had returned to the cave. - What you see? Does not our fire shine through the veils?

There was a short and apparently negative answer in the same dialect.

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

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

Uncas threw back the veil of the blanket 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, was completely lost in thought about the incomprehensible sound that interrupted the evening singing.

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

Don't go, Duncan! Alice asked him. “We shall not sleep in this dreadful place, especially now that the terrible cry still rings in our ears.

First of all, let's see if our fortress is safe enough, - said Hayward, - and then we'll talk about the rest.

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

Nature has created an insurmountable barrier,” he continued, pointing to the black stream under the cliff, and lowered the veil, “and you yourself know that honest, faithful people are guarding 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 go to sleep.

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

He is a warrior. True, he knows the dangers, but he also knows the advantages of forests.

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

How condescendingly, how patiently he endured my foolish undertakings! With what love he fulfilled all my desires! Alice said with tears. “Cora, we have acted unwisely in undertaking this perilous journey.

Maybe I thoughtlessly insisted that my father let us come to him at such a hectic time, but I wanted to prove to him that if he could not rely on others, then his children remained faithful to him.

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

Didn't he say anything about me, Hayward? Alice asked with jealous tenderness. - I'm sure that daddy could not completely forget about his little Elsie ...

Of course not, the young man replied. - He showered you with many kind words, which I dare not repeat, feeling, however, their justice. Once he said...

Duncan was suddenly silent; his eyes were riveted on Alice, who, in an outburst of daughterly love, turned to him to hear her father's words, when the same terrible cry came again, and after that there was a long dead silence. Everyone looked at each other, fearfully expecting a repetition of the wild howl. At last the blanket was slowly pulled back, and the figure of a scout appeared in the opening of the cave; the stern hardness of his face was replaced by uncertainty at the thought of mysterious sounds that seemed to foreshadow imminent danger, before which both his dexterity and experience were powerless.

They don't sleep.

And I see on those rocks -

The whole wild gang they sit.

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, I and the Mohicans, will go to guard the rock. And I believe the Major of the 60th Regiment will join us.

Is danger near? Cora asked.

Only the one who emits these strange cries knows about the danger that threatens us. I will consider myself an unworthy person if I begin to hide in a hole, hearing such a sign in the air. Even the weak soul that has spent its days in psalmody is excited by these sounds and says it is "ready to go forth into battle." But if only a battle was waiting for us, then we would have successfully coped with this. But I have heard that when such cries are heard between heaven and earth, it portends an unusual war.

If you think, my friend, that these sounds are caused by supernatural causes, then we should not worry too much, - continued Cora, imperturbable. “But don’t you think that our enemies want to intimidate us and, in this peculiar 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! I will not be deceived by the purr of a panther, or the whistle of a mockingbird, or the cries of devilish mings. I heard the forest groan like a man in cruel sorrow; I also heard the crackling of lightning as sparks flew from its fiery arrows. Now neither the Mohicans nor I can explain to ourselves what that cry was. And therefore we think that this is a sign of heaven sent for our good.

Strange ... - said Hayward and took his pistols, which, entering the cave, he laid on a stone. - It doesn't matter if it's a sign of peace, or a call to battle - you need to find out what's the matter. Go, my friend, I am following you. Everyone felt a surge of courage when, going out under the open sky, they inhaled not the stuffy air of the grotto, but the invigorating coolness that stood above the waterfalls and whirlpools. A strong wind blew over the river and seemed to carry the roar of the water into the depths of the grottoes, from where a continuous rumble was heard, reminiscent of thunder behind the distant mountains. The moon rose, its light gleaming here and there on the surface of the water; the same edge of the rock on which they stood was shrouded in a thick haze. Except for the rumble of falling water and the strong sighs of the gusty wind, everything was as quiet as it can be at night in complete wilderness. It was in vain that the eyes peered into the opposite bank, trying to catch the slightest signs of life there, which could explain what the terrible sounds meant. The flickering light of the moon deceived the strained vision of the anxious people, and their eyes met only bare cliffs and motionless trees.

In the darkness and stillness 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 perfectly safe, maybe...

Listen! Alice interrupted him.

But there was no need for her to stop the major: the same sound was heard again. Apparently, it came from the river and, breaking out of the narrow cliffs that hampered it, hesitated, rolled through the forest and froze somewhere far, far away.

How can you call such a cry? asked Hawkeye, as the last echo of the terrible scream was lost in the wilderness. - If any of you understands what's the matter, let him tell. I think it's something supernatural.

In that case, there is a person here who can dissuade you, - said Duncan. “These cries are well known to me, as 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 the pain rips that sound out of her throat, and sometimes the horror. Probably my horse has become the prey of predatory animals, or he sees a danger that he cannot avoid. I might not have recognized these screams while I was in the cave, but in the open air I cannot be mistaken.

The scout and his comrades listened to this simple explanation by Duncan with the interest of people who were forced by new concepts to abandon some old beliefs.

Woo-hoo, - said the Mohicans, when the truth became clear to them.

Hawkeye thought for a moment and answered:

I cannot deny the truth of your words, because I do not know horses well, although there are many of them here. Probably, wolves have gathered on the shore around them, and now the frightened animals are calling for help a man, as they know how to call ... Uncas, - in the language of the Delaware he addressed the young Indian, - get off in the pirogue and go downstream, throw it into the pack wolves a burning brand, otherwise fear will do what wolves are unable to do, and we will be left without horses. In the meantime, tomorrow we need to move quickly. The young native had already gone down to the water to carry out the order of the scout, when a long drawn-out loud howl was heard on the river bank, which soon began to move away; the wolves seemed to have abandoned their prey, seized by a sudden terror.

Uncas hurried back. And the three friends started talking again.

We were like hunters who had lost the directions of the starry sky and did not see the sun hidden from them for several days, ”said Hawkeye, taking a few steps to the side. “Now we are beginning to see the signs of the path again, and, thank God, it has been cleared of many obstacles. Sit in the shade of the shore, it's darker here than in the dark pines. Speak only in whispers, although it may be better and wiser for us to converse only with our own thoughts for some time.

It became clear that Hawkeye's anxiety was gone; now he was ready to fight again. It was evident that with the revelation of a mystery which his own experience could not explain to him, his momentary fear had vanished, and although he clearly perceived the position they were in, he was ready to meet any danger with all the courage of his manly character. His sentiments seemed to be shared by the natives. They stood on a rock overlooking both banks; at the same time they themselves were hidden from the eyes of the enemy. Hayward and his companions saw fit to follow the example of their prudent guides. Duncan collected a large pile of sassafras branches and placed them in the crevice that separated the two caves. Cora and Alice hid in this crevice. The walls of rocks could protect the sisters from enemy shots; at the same time, the major calmed the anxious girls, telling them that no danger would take them by surprise. Heyward himself was located not far from Cora and Alice and could talk to them in an undertone. Meanwhile, David, imitating the inhabitants of the forest, hid himself between the stones so that his clumsy body was not visible.

Hours passed. Nothing disturbed the silence and tranquility of the night. The moon rose to its zenith, and its sheer rays illuminated the two sisters, who were sleeping peacefully, hugging each other. Duncan covered the sisters with Cora's large shawl, thus hiding from himself the spectacle that he contemplated with such love, then lowered his head to a piece of stone. From David's direction came such sounds of snoring, which in a moment of vigil, of course, would have outraged his own ears. In a word, except for the scout and the Mohicans, everyone was defeated by sleep, everyone lost consciousness of reality. But the watchful guards knew neither drowsiness nor fatigue. Motionless as stones, they lay, merging with the outlines of the cliffs, constantly looking around the dark rows of trees that bordered the opposite bank of the narrow stream. No sound escaped their hearing, and the most careful observer could not tell whether they were breathing or not. It was obvious that long experience had engendered such caution, and that the most subtle cunning of the enemies could not deceive her. However, everything was calm. At last the moon went down; a pink streak appeared over the tops of the trees at the bend of the river and announced the advent of a new day.

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

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

Did the night go smoothly? asked Hayward. - I was overtaken by a dream and prevented me from guarding.

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

Finally awakening, Duncan approached the sleeping girls and, throwing back the shawl that covered them, said:

Bark! Alice! Wake up, it's time to go!

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

No, no, dear father, we were not abandoned, Duncan was with us!

Yes, Duncan is here, - the young man whispered with excitement, - and as long as he is alive and as long as danger threatens, he will not leave you! .. Kora! Alice! Get up! Time to go!

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

It seemed to the frightened listeners that discordant cries were heard in the thicket of the forest, in the caves near the waterfalls, among the rocks, rushed from the riverbed, fell from the sky. To the sound of this infernal noise and uproar, David straightened up, covered his ears and cried out:

Where does this cacophony come from? Maybe the vaults of hell opened up? A man 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 him as a bed during his long sleep. The Mohicans boldly responded with shouts to the war cry of their enemies, who howled in triumph at the sight of Gamut's fall. A quick firefight broke out; but both warring parties were so experienced that they did not leave cover for a single moment. Duncan listened with the greatest effort, hoping to catch the sound of the oars; he thought that there was only one means of escape left - flight. The river still rolled its waves past the cliffs, but the pirogue was not visible on the black water. Hayward was beginning to think that the scout had mercilessly abandoned them, when suddenly a flame flashed on the rock under his feet, and a ferocious howl proved that the messenger of death, sent from Hawkeye's gun, had found a victim. Even this - a weak rebuff forced the attackers to retreat. Little by little, the cries of the savages ceased, and Glenn again fell into 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 crevasse, which served as a refuge for both sisters. "The poor man's scalp survived," Hawkeye remarked calmly, running his hand over David's head. "Here's a man whose tongue is too long!" It was madness - to appear to the savages on an unprotected rock in all its huge growth. I'm surprised he survived!

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

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 Makuas 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 means to get our scalps. We must,” he went on, raising his face, clouded by a shadow of anxiety, “hold out here until Munro sends soldiers to help us. God grant that this happens quickly and that the soldier is led by one who knows the customs of the Indians.

Do you hear, Cora, what, in all likelihood, awaits us? Duncan asked. “We can only rely on your father's solicitude. Enter both of you into the cave, 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 to the care of the girls, Hayward was about to go to the exit, but he was stopped.

The major turned 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 essential your life is to our salvation! Remember that Father has 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 bearing the name of Munro.

If anything can increase my attachment to life, - said Hayward, unconsciously looking at the silent Alice, - it is such confidence. As a Major in the 60th Regiment, I must take part in the defense. But an easy task awaits us: we will only have to repulse the attack of 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 were still lying in the narrow crevice between the two caves.

I repeat to you, Uncas, - said the hunter, when Hayward approached them, - you are wasting gunpowder for nothing - because of this, the gun gives back and prevents the bullet from flying as it should. A small amount of gunpowder, a light bullet and a long sight - this is what almost always causes the death cry of the Mings ... Let's go, friends, let's hide, because no one can say at what minute and in what place the makuas will strike.

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

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

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

Hayward looked out from behind his cover and saw what he rightly thought was the height of skill and courage. Turbulent jets whittled away the corner of the rock from which the river toppled, and the first ledge of the stone became less sheer. And so, guided only by the light ripples seen 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 the intended victims.

As soon as the whisper of the scout ceased, four human heads appeared above the logs, nailed to the exposed rocks by the current. The next instant, a fifth figure appeared in the green foam; she swam and fought the water. The Indian struggled to get to safety. The swift current carried him; now he stretched out his hand to his comrades, but the seething stream again threw him away from them. Suddenly the Huron seemed to fly up into the air, threw up his arms and disappeared into the gaping abyss. From the abyss came a desperate cry. Then everything was silent; there was a moment of terrible calm ... Duncan's first sincere desire was to rush to the aid of a dying creature, but the iron vise of the hunter's hands chained him to the place.

Do you want to find our hiding place and bring certain death on all of us? asked Hawkeye sternly. - That saved us one charge. And ammunition is as dear to us as a moment's respite is to a weary deer. Change the powder in your pistols. Such water dust rises above the waterfall that the saltpeter, perhaps, is damp. Get ready for a hand-to-hand fight, I'll shoot.

The scout put his finger in his mouth and whistled loudly. The Mohicans guarding the rocks responded in kind. Duncan noticed that the heads above the logs nailed to the shore instantly rose, but just as quickly disappeared from view. Soon he heard a rustle, turned his head and saw Uncas a few paces away; the young Indian dexterously crawled along the ground. Hawkeye said a few words to the Mohican in the Delaware tongue, and Uncas took up his new position with unusual caution and calmness. Hayward experienced minutes of feverish and impatient waiting, and the intelligence officer found this time suitable for a lecture on the prudent and careful handling of rifles and pistols.

Of all kinds of weapons, - he began his instructions, - in experienced hands, the most effective is a long-barreled gun, well polished and made of soft metal. However, to handle such a gun, strong hands, a sure eye, and a good sight are needed; only under such conditions will the gun show all its merits. I believe that gunsmiths do not know their trade well when they make short guns and cavalry ...

A quiet but expressive exclamation from Uncas interrupted his speech.

I see, I see, friend, - continued Hawkeye. - They are preparing to attack, otherwise they would not raise their backs above the logs ... Well, excellent! he added, looking over his gun. - The first of them, of course, will meet certain death, be it Montcalm himself.

From the forest came another burst of wild cries, and at this signal four savages jumped out from behind the logs covering them. The wait was so painful that Hayward 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 before them, and rushed forward with a wild howl.

When they were a few fathoms from the scout and his comrades, Hawkeye's gun slowly rose above the bushes, and a 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," ordered Hawkeye, and, his eyes sparkling, he took 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 failed.

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

And immediately the gigantic figure of an Indian with a cruel, ferocious face rose before him. At the same time, hand-to-hand combat began between Duncan and another redskin. Hawkeye and his opponent, with equal dexterity, grabbed each other's raised hands, squeezing terrible knives. For a minute they stood motionless, tensing their muscles and trying to overcome each other. The swollen muscles of the white triumphed 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 pierced his chest with one blow of the knife.

Meanwhile, Hayward fought fiercely with his enemy, and death threatened the young officer. In the first fight, the Indian knocked Hayward's thin sword out of his hands, and the major was left without protection; the whole salvation of Duncan depended only on his strength and dexterity. He had no shortage of either, but he met an opponent who was not inferior to him. Fortunately, Hayward managed to disarm the Huron, and the Indian's knife fell on a stone with a clang.

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

With every minute they approached the cliff; here it was necessary to make a final, last effort. Both put all their determination into this effort, and both staggered to a halt over the abyss. Hayward felt the savage's fingers digging into his throat, choking him, 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 was slowly yielding to the terrible strength of the red man, but suddenly a dark hand flashed before Hayward's eyes, the blade of a knife flashed. The Huron's fingers unclenched instantly, and Uncas' saving arms dragged Duncan back from the edge of the abyss. But the young major still could not take his eyes off the terrible face of the Indian, who now rolled into the abyss.

Undercover! shouted Hawkeye, who had just finished his opponent. - If you value your life, hide behind the rocks. The case is not over yet.

From the throat of the young Mohican a victory cry escaped, and he, accompanied by Duncan, quickly climbed up the slope from which the major had fled before the start of the battle; both disappeared among the stones and bushes.

homeland avengers

Still slow.

The scout's warning was timely. While the struggle we have described was going on, neither the human voice nor the sound of footsteps disturbed the monotonous rumble of the waterfall. The Hurons followed the outcome of the fight with such tension that it seemed they could not move. The quick movements of the combatants prevented them from shooting at enemies, because their shots could be fatal for friends. But when everything was over, a fierce howl rose up, and one after another the shots of the rifles began to flare up, sending leaden messengers in whole volleys, as if the attackers poured out anger on the insensible rocks.

Chingachgook's gun answered them with slow but well-aimed fire. The elder Mohican, with impassive firmness, did not leave his post during the whole preceding scene. Only when the victory 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 in volleys, then in all directions. And, although the surrounding rocks, trees and bushes were all riddled with bullets, until now the only victim of the whole small detachment was poor David, so safe was the shelter of the besieged.

Let them burn their gunpowder,” said Hawkeye calmly, listening to the whistle of bullets as they passed the rock where he was hiding in safety. - So much the better: when the case 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're wasting gunpowder and falling asleep too much. The gun gives back, and the bullet flies badly. I told you to aim at this villain so as to hit him under the white line, but your bullet hit two inches higher. The life of the Ming is hidden deep, and experience teaches us to quickly deal with snakes.

A calm smile illuminated the young Mohican's features, revealing his command of the English language, but Uncas made no reply.

In vain you reproach Uncas with a lack of art, - said Duncan. “He saved my life in the smartest, most courageous way. Now I am his friend forever and I will never forget what I owe him.

Uncas got up and held out his hand to Hayward.

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 was looking calmly and benevolently at this manifestation of youthful feelings, said:

In deserts and forests, friends often render 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 when colliding with the Mings, once when crossing the Horiken and ...

This bullet was fired better than the rest! cried Duncan, and involuntarily recoiled from the rock that had been hit by the shot.

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

Lead falling at the end never flattens out. This could only happen if the bullet fell from the clouds.

Uncas raised his gun, and the eyes of all the others turned upward. The mystery was instantly revealed. A mighty oak rose on the right bank of the river; this tree leaned forward so that its upper branches hung over the river. In the midst of the foliage, which barely covered the knotty branches of an old oak, a Huron nestled; he hid behind the trunk, then peered out from behind the branches, wanting to make sure that 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 up my deer-shooter." Then we immediately shoot at the tree from both sides.

Uncas waited for the scout's signal. Finally, two shots fired. The bark and leaves of the oak flew into the air, and the wind blew them apart. The savage answered his enemies with only mocking laughter and sent another bullet, which knocked the hat off Hawkeye's head. And again a wild, ferocious cry broke out from the thickets of the forest, and leaden hail whistled over the heads of the besieged; it seemed as if the savages wanted to keep their enemies still in order to make it easier for a warrior who climbed a high oak tree to aim.

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

The signal sounded, and before Hawkeye had time to load his gun, Chingachgook was at his side. When Uncas showed the experienced warrior the position occupied by the enemy, only the usual exclamation "woo-hoo" escaped the lips of the old Mohican; there was no other expression of his surprise or dismay. Hawkeye and the Mohicans conferred animatedly in Delaware for a few seconds, and then each calmly took his place, preparing to carry out his plan.

Since the besieged noticed the warrior hiding among the branches, his shots became erratic, because, as soon as he appeared from under cover, the guns of the enemies threatened him.

Still, his bullets sometimes reached them. Hayward's uniform was pierced in several places. There was blood on one of his sleeves, coming out of a light wound.

Finally, emboldened by the patient waiting of the enemy, the Huron tried to aim better. The quick glances of Chingachgook and Uncas immediately caught his intentions. A savage's feet flickered through the meager foliage inches from the trunk of an oak tree, and the Mohican guns fired instantly. Huron squatted down on his wounded leg, and his whole body came out from under cover.

With the quickness of thought, Hawkeye took advantage of this and fired his doomed stag. The leaves of the oak stirred, the gun of the Huron fell from a height, and after a short futile struggle, the body of the savage swayed in the air, although he still clung desperately to the bare bough of the tree.

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

I won't waste a single pellet,' said Hawkeye firmly. He died anyway, and we have no 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 ceased, the shots weakened; the eyes of friends and enemies did not leave the unfortunate man, who hung between heaven and earth. The wind shook the body, and although no groans or murmurs escaped from the lips of the dying man, he at times looked gloomily at his opponents, and then, despite the distance, they read the torment of despair in his features. Three times the scout raised his gun, three times caution stopped him, and the long muzzle of the famous "deer hunter" slowly lowered. Finally, one arm of the Huron loosened and, exhausted, hung along the body. Desperately, but fruitlessly, he tried to seize the branch again - his hand convulsively grabbed the void. The lightning was no faster than Hawkeye's shot; the corpse of the savage trembled and, like lead, fell into the foaming waves of the river.

Not a single victory cry resounded in the air after this event, and even the stern Mohicans looked at each other in horror in silence. From the forest again came the terrible cry. 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, it didn’t matter to me whether he fell into the water alive or dead! .. Uncas, my boy, go to the pie and bring out a big horn from there. All our gunpowder is in there. Unfortunately, we will probably soon use it to the last grain. If I'm wrong, let them say that I don't know the Makuas at all.

The young Mohican quickly went to obey the scout's orders. Hawkeye was ruefully and uselessly going through the contents of his bag and trying in vain to scrape the gunpowder out of the empty powder flask. His occupation was soon interrupted by the loud and piercing cry of Uncas. Even to Duncan's inexperienced ears, the young Mohican's exclamation sounded like the signal of a new, unexpected disaster. Hayward jumped up quickly, completely oblivious to the danger he might bring upon himself by standing up to his full height. Precisely succumbing to his prompting, everyone else also rushed into the narrow passage between the two caves. They moved so fast that their enemies' shots were wasted. The cry of Uncas forced the sisters and the wounded David to leave their shelter, and soon everyone realized what a misfortune had horrified the young Indian. Not far from the cliff was a light pirogue scout; 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! exclaimed Hawkeye, and in despair he dropped the gun to the ground. - This villain passed the rapid, and even if we had gunpowder, I could not stop him with a bullet.

Meanwhile, the enterprising Huron lifted his head over the side of the pirogue and, gliding downstream, waved his hand in the air. From his chest flew a victory cry; howls, laughter and ferocious cries answered him from the forest.

Laugh, children of Satan! - muttered the scout, sitting down on the ledge of the rock. - 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? Duncan asked. - What will happen to us?

Instead of answering, Hawkeye only ran his finger around the crown of the 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 fortify the caves and prevent them from landing.

And by what means, I ask you? came the question of Hawkeye. - Arrows of Uncas or tears of girls? No, no, you are young, rich, you have friends, and I understand that it is hard to die at your age. But,” he added, and shifted his gaze to the Mohicans, “we must 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 of the scout's gaze; the behavior of the Indians confirmed his worst fears.

Chingachgook sat proudly on a piece of rock; he laid a knife and a tomahawk on the stone, removed an eagle feather from his head, and smoothed his single lock of hair, as if preparing it for the last, terrible appointment. The face of the Indian was calm, though thoughtful; his dark eyes gradually lost their martial luster and assumed an expression of dispassion and readiness for death.

I don't believe our position is entirely hopeless," repeated Duncan. - Every second help can come, and I do not see a single enemy. They are tired of the struggle, during which they are exposed to too much danger, not seeing sufficient benefits ahead.

Maybe in a minute... in an hour, these snakes will sneak up on us. At this very moment they are able to lie down and listen to us,” said Hawkeye. “Chingachgook,” he added in Delaware, “my brother, we fought together for the last time ... Now the makuas 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 Ming wives weep over their slain! - with unshakable firmness and pride answered the Indian. - 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 forever silent. Let the sharp knives of the Makuas be drawn, let their fastest tomahawks fly into the air, for the greatest enemy of the Mings has fallen into their hands... Uncas, the last shoot of the noble tree, call these cowards, order them to hurry.

They are looking for their dead 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 trees, and the Mohicans laugh.

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

But why die? - said Cora, stepping back 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 owe you too much already, we should not force you to share misfortune with us.

You don't know the cunning Iroquois well enough, ladies, if you think they haven't cut off all the retreat into the woods," answered Hawkeye, and at once added ingenuously:

Of course, if we were to swim down the river, the current would soon carry us to a distance that neither their shots nor the sounds of their voices could reach.

Try to swim away! Why stay here and increase the number of victims! - Cora said in a burst of generosity.

For what? - repeated the scout, proudly looking around. - Then, that it is better for a person to die with a clear conscience than to suffer repentance until the end 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, - said Cora and went up to the scout. “Say that the Hurons are leading his daughters to the northern deserts, but that they can still be saved if you hurry. If, in spite of all this, it is the Lord's will that help is late, bring it to your father ... - Cora's voice trembled, and she suppressed tears with difficulty, - our blessing, last prayers, greetings full of love ...

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

There is a certain amount of meaning in these speeches, - finally broke from 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, calmly, there was firm determination in his tone. The older Mohican listened in deep silence and seemed to weigh the words of his comrade, as if realizing their great significance. After a moment's hesitation, Chingachgook waved his hand in agreement and said, in English, "okay," with the expressiveness of an Indian voice. Then, tucking his knife and tomahawk into his belt, the warrior walked slowly to the edge of the cliff, the least visible from the banks of the river. Here he stood for a moment, pointed meaningfully to the forest below, uttered a few words in his own language, accurately determining the path he had planned, rushed into the water, dived and disappeared from the eyes of the observers.

The scout paused a little to say a few words to Cora, who breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the effect her words had had.

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

He shook hands affectionately with Kora, raised his gun, looked at him mournfully, again carefully placed his "deer-killer" on the stone, and finally descended to the place of the river where Chingachgook had disappeared. Hawkeye hung on the rock for a moment, looked around anxiously, and said bitterly:

If I had gunpowder left, there would be no such misfortune and shame! At last he unclenched his hands and found himself in the water; the jets closed over his head and he disappeared.

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

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

Uncas will remain," the young Mohican answered calmly in English.

It will only make our captivity even harder and lessen our chances of escape,” Cora said. “Go, generous youth,” she went on, dropping her eyes under the Mohican’s gaze and vaguely guessing her power over him. “Go to my father, as I have 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 it! I beg you to go!

The calm expression on the young chief's face turned sad, but he stopped hesitating. With silent steps Uncas crossed the rocky platform and slipped into the turbulent stream. Almost without breathing, the rest looked at the river until his head appeared above the water quite far from the island. Taking in air, Uncas again disappeared under the water.

This quick and apparently successful maneuver of the three inhabitants of the forests took only a few minutes. After a last look after Uncas, 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!

And does Cora Munro require just such a proof of loyalty from her protector? Duncan replied with a sad smile, bitterness in his tone.

Now is not the time to argue,” the girl replied. - The moment has come when it is the duty of everyone to prove themselves in the best way. You will not be of any use here, but your precious life can be saved for other, closer friends.

Duncan did not answer, but only looked at the lovely Alice, who clung to his arm 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 escapes death.

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

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

Have fun my love

Don't be afraid.

With a smile of a bright cloud you drive away,

That darkened the tender forehead.

"Death of Agrippina"

The noise and excitement of the battle, as if by magic, was replaced by silence, and to Hayward's excited imagination it all seemed like some terrible delirium. 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 trusted the fast current, Duncan listened carefully, waiting for some signals or sounds of alarm by which he might know if the risky escape had succeeded. But in vain he strained his attention: nothing spoke of the fate of these brave people. In that moment of bitter doubt, Duncan forgot the need to hide behind a rock, which, until 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 friends who had sailed away. It seemed that all living things again left the wooded banks of the river. The fishing hawk, which had watched the battle from afar, perched on the top branches of a dry pine, now flew from its high perch and, describing wide circles, hovered over its prey. Jay, whose loud voice was drowned out by the wild howl of the Indians, again filled the air with discordant cries, as if thinking that dominion over the wilderness had returned to her. These sounds revived a faint glimmer of hope in Duncan; he rallied his strength for the forthcoming struggle, and confidence in victory revived in him.

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

I remember that together with two lovely girls I sent praises and thanksgiving to the Almighty, - David spoke in a semi-conscious state, - but I suffered a cruel ... however, a fair punishment for my sins. I sort of fell asleep, but it wasn't a real dream. The sharp, discordant sounds of battle tore at my ears. It was chaos. It seemed that the end of the world had come and nature forgot about harmony.

Poor little one! You really were on the verge of death. But get up, follow me. I will take you to a place where you will not hear other sounds than psalms.

A melody sounds in the noise of the waterfall, and the murmur of the waters is sweet, ”David said, pressing his hand to his head full of confusion. “But don’t squealings and such cries sound in the air that it seems as if the souls of the condemned ...

No, no," Hayward interrupted impatiently, "the cries ceased. Everything is quiet and calm, except for the water... So, go where you can calmly sing the songs you love so much.

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

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

I do not like the rule of the natives, which forces them to submit to misfortune without a fight,” said Duncan, continuing to lay the branches. - Our rule: "Until life has dried up - hope has not disappeared" - is much more comforting and more in line with the character of a warrior. You, Cora, I will not comfort you, you have enough courage. But can't you dry the tears of the poor girl who is trembling pressed against your chest?

I have become calmer, Duncan, - answered Alice, pulling away from her sister and trying, despite her tears, to seem 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 been exposed to terrible dangers for us.

Now our meek Alice speaks, as befits a daughter of Munro, ”said Hayward, and, approaching the outer entrance to the cave, stopped to shake her hand. “With two such paragons of courage in front of you, it’s a shame to be a coward.

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

If the Hurons come here, they will take this position not so easily, - he muttered and, leaning his head against the rock, began to patiently wait for further events, not taking his eyes off the entrance to the grotto.

When the sound of his voice ceased, there was a long, deep, almost dead silence. Fresh morning air seeped into the cave. Minute after minute passed, nothing disturbed the peace; a feeling of hope arose in the souls of those who were waiting for help.

Only David did not share the general excitement. He sat blankly. The beam, 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 a song there that was most suitable for this moment. Soon Gamut's efforts were crowned with success; he said aloud, "Isle of Wight," drew a long, gentle sound from his tuning fork, and in his own, still more musical voice, sang the introductory modulations to that hymn whose title had just been announced.

Could this be dangerous? Cora asked, her dark eyes looking inquiringly at the major.

- Isle of Wight! David repeated, and looked around with that solemn air that helped him suppress the whispers of his disciples. - This hymn has a beautiful melody and solemn words. And you need to sing it with due respect.

After a short silence, a singer's voice was heard, soft rumbling sounds rushed, finally the melody filled the narrow cave. Everyone listened with deep emotion 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 aficionado; his voice regained its former fullness and power. The singer made a new effort, and lingering powerful sounds poured out. Suddenly there was a terrible scream outside. The sacred hymn was instantly interrupted; the singer fell silent, as if the heart of the unfortunate man came up to his larynx and immediately strangled the psalmist.

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

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

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

However weak the possibility of salvation was, Duncan's words were not in vain: his remark revived the energy of the girls so much that they found the strength to silently wait for further events.

Soon a howling was heard, then voices sounded in various parts of the island; at first they were heard at its far end, then they began to approach the cave.

At last, amidst the confusion and uproar, a triumphant cry of victory rang out a few yards from the disguised entrance to the cave. Hayward decided that their refuge had been found, and the last hope was extinguished in his soul. But he was relieved again a little when he heard the screams coming from near the stone upon which Hawkeye had laid his gun so regretfully. The major clearly distinguished the dialect of the Indians; he heard not only individual words, but entire phrases spoken in Canadian jargon, which was based on French. Suddenly a chorus of voices repeated: "Long Carbine!" These words echoed in the neighboring forest, and Hayward remembered that the name had been given by the enemy to the hunter and scout of the English army; only now Duncan realized who his companion was.

"Long Carbine, Long Carbine ..." - passed from mouth to mouth, and now the whole gang, apparently, gathered around a military trophy, which, as it were, proved the death of its terrible owner. Then the Hurons scattered again over the island, filling the air with the name of the enemy, whose body, as Hayward understood from the exclamations of the Hurons, they thought to find in some crevasse.

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

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 escaped, and soon we can expect help from Webb.

A few minutes of terrible silence passed. Hayward understood that at this time the Hurons were making new, more thorough searches. He could make out the steps of the Hurons touching the branches of the sassafras; I heard how dry leaves rustled and twigs broke with a crack. Finally, the pile of branches gave way slightly, one corner of the blanket fell, and a faint light played in a distant corner of the cave. Cora clutched Alice to her chest in horror, 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 refuge.

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

He could touch 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 things that made up the modest property of a scout. 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 crevasse and began to scatter them, as if suspecting that they were hiding the body of a hated and dangerous person. The ferocious-looking warrior lifted up a whole bunch of branches, pointed gleefully at the dark bloodstains 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 on the pile that Duncan had piled up in front of the entrance to the second cave, and thus blocked the hole through which the major looked. The rest of the savages imitated him; pulling branches from the scout's cave, they threw them on a pile of sassafras branches, not suggesting that in this way they themselves hid 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 gravity 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 former place, from which he could see the second exit facing the river. At the moment when he retreated from the heap of sassafras, the Indians, as if succumbing to a common impulse, cleared a passage between the two caves, and now they could be heard running again across the island to those stones on which they had recently landed. Their new plaintive cry proved that they had again gathered near the bodies of their dead comrades.

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

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

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

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

Alice's eyes shone with the light of gratitude, a lovely blush filled her cheeks; but as her lips parted for prayer, the words they were about to utter suddenly froze, the blush was replaced by a deathly pallor, the delicate gleam of her eyes faded, her features contorted with horror, convulsively closed 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, saw the vicious, ferocious features of the Sly Fox.

Despite the surprise, Duncan's composure did not leave. From the expression on the Indian's face, the major realized that Magua had not yet managed to see anything in the semi-darkness 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 features of the savage infuriated Duncan; Forgetting everything in the world and succumbing only to the impulse of anger, Hayward took aim and fired. The whole cave hummed, as if from the sound of a volcanic eruption; when the wind blowing from the gorge scattered the clouds of smoke erupted by the grotto, no one was found in the place where the evil face of the traitor guide had just been seen. Hayward rushed to the exit and saw how the dark figure of the savage crept along the low narrow ledge of the rock and soon completely disappeared from sight.

After the thunder of the shot, a terrible silence reigned among the savages, but when there was a long and understandable cry of the Fox, the tramp of feet and screams began to approach again, and before Duncan could recover from the shock, the fragile barrier of branches was scattered in all directions. The Indians poured into the cave from both ends. Hayward and the girls were dragged out of their hiding place in a cave, and they were surrounded by a crowd of triumphant Hurons.

I'm afraid that in the morning we will oversleep as well,

How imperceptibly they sat up during the night.

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 ornaments of his uniform, their eyes burned with a desire to take possession of sewing and galloons. But the menacing shouts of the giant stopped the savages, and this convinced Hayward that they decided to spare him and 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 showed that they were not satisfied with their success. 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 about. Duncan pretended not to understand the meaning of their questions, but David really didn't know French. At last the insistence of the Hurons wearied Hayward; besides, he was afraid to irritate his conquerors with stubborn silence. He looked around, looking for Magua, who could translate his answers to the questions of the Hurons; their voices sounded more insistent and menacing.

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

While everyone else tried to satisfy their childish inclination to plunder by appropriating the miserable property of a scout. 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 former guide, the Major involuntarily turned away in horror from Magua's sinister, though calm face. However, having conquered his revulsion, he forced himself to speak 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 is the hunter who knows the forest paths, - Magua answered in broken English and with a ferocious grin put his hand on the leaves with which the wound on his shoulder was covered and bandaged. - 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 really a war when an Indian was resting under a sugar tree and wanted to eat bread? Who filled the bushes with crawling enemies? Whose language spoke of the world when his thoughts were bloodthirsty? Did Magua say that the tomahawk had been taken out of the ground and that his hand had 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 kept silent. Magua also seemed to have decided to cut off further conversations; he again leaned against the rock, from which he moved away for a moment during a flash of anger. When the impatient savages noticed that the short conversation between the white and the Fox had ended, the cries of "Long Carbine!" - Do you hear? Magua said indifferently. - The Hurons demand the life of the Long Carbine, 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 replied 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 ran.

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 Chief thinks the Hurons are fools!

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

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

Yana stone, this could be said by your murdered comrade, who fell into a waterfall! replied Duncan irritably, in a fit of vexation, using those boastful expressions which might arouse the respect of an Indian. - But the white man thinks that only cowards leave women.

Magua muttered a few indistinct 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 from these Canadian nicknames, Duncan realized that the Hurons knew his recent comrades much better than he did himself, and reluctantly replied:

He, too, went with the flow.

And Swift Deer?

I don't know who you call that," Duncan replied, taking the opportunity to drag out the conversation.

Uncasa,” replied Magua, pronouncing the Delaware name with even more difficulty than the English words.

Are you talking about a young Delaware? He, too, went with the flow.

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

They waited in complete silence, with patience characteristic of the Indians, until the conversation between the officer and the Fox was over. When Hayward fell silent, the savages fixed their eyes on 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 bank of the river, violently waving their arms in the air; others began to spit into the water, as if taking revenge on her for the fact that she had treacherously deprived them of their undoubted rights as victors. Some, the most ferocious, threw scowling glances at the captives, 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 fury of the Indians. The young officer was desperate to rush towards Alice, when one of the Hurons seized with his dark hand a lock of her luxurious hair, which fell in thick waves on her shoulders, and drew a knife in the air around her head. But as soon as Hayward made the first movement, he felt that the Indian, who disposed of all the savages, squeezed his shoulder like pincers. He realized that it would be useless to fight against such an overwhelming force, and resigned himself to his fate, only quietly telling the girls that savages often utter threats that are not carried out.

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

However, his fears were greatly eased 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. 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 the English, probably made them decide quickly on something and hastened everything that followed.

The savages carried the light pirogue to that part of the river which was near the exit of the outer cave. As soon as this was done, the leader of the Hurons by a sign ordered the captives to go down to the lower stones and sit in the pirogue.

It was impossible to resist, so Duncan showed an example of obedience by going to the pirogue, and soon he was sitting in the boat with both sisters and the still amazed David. Although the Hurons could not have known the narrow fairway between whirlpools and rapids of the stream, they knew too well the general signs of dangerous places for them to make any significant mistake. When the pilot, chosen to lead the pirogue, took his place, the Indians again rushed into the river, the pirogue glided downstream, and in a few seconds the captives found themselves on the south bank of the river, almost against 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. Now the Huron crowd was divided. The chief leader mounted Hayward's horse and set off across the river, and most of his companions threw themselves into the water after him. Soon they all disappeared into the forest. The captives remained under the supervision 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 brains of people in trouble are never dormant, and hope, however faint, feeds the imagination, so Duncan already imagined that Montcalm would try to turn Munro's fatherly feelings into a tool with which he would try to make the veteran forget 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 a connoisseur of all sorts of political intrigues that did not require manifestations 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 who followed the red-skinned giant headed for Horiken, and Hayward realized that he and his companions were in for a terrible captivity among the wild ones.

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 for Magua and addressed 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 ears 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 keep silent.

The Indian threw a few casual words to his comrades, who were saddling the horses for the young girls; then the Fox stepped aside and, with a cautious movement, called for Duncan to follow him.

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

The cunning vixen has proved that he has attained the honorary title 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 full of hidden enemies? Didn't he notice that even a snake couldn't sneak past them unnoticed? Had he not deliberately strayed to blind the eyes of the Hurons? Didn't Magua pretend that he was returning to his tribe, who treated him so badly and, like a dog, drove him out of their wigwams? And we? Didn't we help him, noticing his intentions, to make the Hurons think that the white man considered his friend an enemy? Is it true? Oh, when the Cunning Fox blinded the eyes of the Hurons with his wisdom, they forgot that they once did him much harm and forced him to flee to the Mohawks! They left Magua on the south coast with their captives, while they themselves, like madmen, moved north. I know that the fox wants, like a real fox, to turn around and take his daughters to the gray-haired rich Scot. 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 jingle as many dollars as there are pebbles lying on the coast of Horiken, and the deer will become lick his hands, knowing that he will not run away 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'll tell you... - What will the young leader, who came from the sunrise, give me? asked the Huron, noticing Hayward's stutter.

From the islands that lie on the Sun Lake, he will conduct a stream of fiery water. This liquid will flow in front of Magua's wigwams and will not stop until the Indian's heart becomes lighter than a feather, and his breath becomes sweeter than the scent 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 slyly deceived the Hurons, the face of his listener took on an expression of cautious restraint. When Hayward recalled the insults that had driven the Huron from his tribe's lodges, the Fox's eyes flashed with a fierce gleam, and Duncan realized that he had touched the very chord he should have touched. When he came to the phrases by which he cunningly incited both the thirst for revenge of the savage and his greed, he, in any case, aroused his deep attention. The fox asked his last question, about the reward, calmly, with the usual dignity 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 a few moments, then, placing his hand on the rough dressing that covered his wounded shoulder, he said:

Do friends leave such signs?

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

Do Delaware crawl like snakes to those they love to strike?

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

Does the white leader often burn gunpowder in front of his fellows?

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 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 ahead and don't open your lips. When Magua speaks, you will have time to answer him. Hayward noticed that the Fox looked around warily at the other Hurons, and immediately withdrew so as not to give them the opportunity to suspect him of complicity with their leader. Magua approached the horses and pretended to be very pleased with the diligence of his subordinates. Then he motioned for Hayward to help Cora and Alice get on their Narragans. 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 angry faces of the Hurons, to get on 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, moving slowly, he could delay the entire squad. His gaze was still hopefully fixed on Fort Edward, and he waited for a noise from the woods to let him know the deliverers were coming.

When everything was ready, Magua moved ahead of everyone. He was followed by David, who, as the wound ceased to make itself felt, gradually began to realize his true position. Next came the sisters. Hayward kept close to them, while the Indians marched on either side of the captives and brought up the rear. Their vigilance did not weaken for a moment.

Everyone was silent, only Duncan from time to time turned with words of consolation to Alice and Cora da Gamut poured out his soul in plaintive exclamations. The travelers headed south along a road that was completely opposite to the way 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 the end of this tedious journey was not in sight.

Hayward watched the noon rays of the sun break through the branches of the trees, and longed for the moment when Magua would follow a path favorable to travelers.

Kora, remembering the scout's farewell instructions, at the slightest opportunity held out her hand to break 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 straighten her costume. Only once did she break a branch; at the same 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 gave 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 that, the Huron laid his hand on his tomahawk with such a suggestive air that Cora had to give up the idea of ​​​​leaving marks on the bushes.

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

If the sullen Magua had given Hayward any encouragement, the major would certainly have spoken to him. But the Fox rarely looked back and never uttered a word. Guided only by the sun and those barely visible signs known only to the natives, the Fox walked on the bare soil of a pine forest or crossed streams; his intuition helped him move in almost as straight a line as a bird flies. He never once thought. Whether there was a barely noticeable path in front of him, whether it disappeared completely or stretched along a completely distinct torn path, he never slowed down or quickened his pace. It seemed that he was not tired. And whenever the eyes of the travelers would not tear themselves away from the road strewn with fallen leaves, and would not rush forward, the dark figure of Magua could always be seen between the tree trunks. He walked without turning his head, and the blond feathers in his hair wavered at his own steps.

Finally Magua passed through a low ravine through which a merry stream ran, and began to climb the mountain along such a steep slope that Cora and Alice were forced to dismount from their horses. When the travelers reached the top of the hill, they found themselves on a flat area, sparsely overgrown with trees. Beneath one of them sprawled the dark figure of Magua, who obviously wanted to take advantage of the rest that everyone else needed.

Cursed be my kind

When I forgive him.

Shakespeare. "The Merchant of Venice"

The Indian chose to camp on one of the steep pyramidal, artificial mounds of hills so often found 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 an unexpected attack, and, apparently, for this reason, the cunning Magua chose it as a parking lot. Hayward indifferently and indifferently looked around this hill, no longer hoping for the appearance of help, then he completely devoted himself to the care of his companions, trying to calm them down, encourage them.

The Narraganzets were unbridled and given the opportunity to pluck the branches of trees and bushes scattered around the top of the hill. Duncan laid out the rest of the provisions in the shade of a tall beech, whose horizontal branches, like a large canopy, hung over the girls.

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

Such restraint, strange in an Indian, especially when he can easily satisfy his hunger, attracted the attention of Hayward. The young man suggested that the Huron was at that moment devising the surest way to get rid of the vigilance of his comrades. Wanting to help the Huron come up with a clever plan, prompting him with some thought, Duncan stepped out of the shade of the beech and, as if aimlessly, went towards the Fox.

Hasn't Magua walked facing the sun long enough and is still afraid of the Canadians? asked Hayward, pretending to be quite sure of the Indian's friendly disposition. “Will not Fortmaster William Henry be more pleased to see his daughters before the new night eclipses his sorrow for them, and he becomes less generous in rewards?”

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

Of course not, - answered Hayward, wishing to correct his unwitting mistake. - True, sometimes whites forget the graves of their forefathers, but the affection of parents for children never dies.

Is the heart of a gray-haired father soft? Does he think, is he sad about the children that his wives gave him? He treats his warriors harshly and has a stony look.

He is harsh with lazy and negligent soldiers, but for the sober and brave Munro is a fair and philanthropic boss. I have known many affectionate and loving fathers, but I have never met a man with a heart more full of fatherly love. Of course, Magua, you happened to see the old man only at the head of the warriors, but I saw tears come to his eyes when he talked about his daughters ...

Hayward broke off his speech; he did not know how to explain the strange expression that suddenly flashed across the face of the Indian, who was listening attentively to his words. At first it seemed to the young man that the idea of ​​the gifts promised to him awakened in the soul of the savage, but little by little the expression of joy was replaced on the face of the Indian by the imprint of a fierce, malicious triumph, born, obviously, not of greed, but of another passion.

Listen, - said the Huron, and his face again froze in imperturbable calm, - go to the dark-haired daughter of the gray-haired one and tell her that Magua wants to talk to her. The father will remember what his child promises. Duncan thought that the greedy Indian wanted to hear a new confirmation of the promised rewards, and although slowly and reluctantly, he nevertheless moved to 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 do not be stingy, promising gunpowder and saddlecloths. But remember that they value alcoholic beverages the most. It is 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 unimportant. My father is not waiting for me, not many friends will regret my sad fate ... But enough, we have come to the Indian ... Magua, here is the one with whom you wanted to talk.

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

When the Huron talks to women, his tribe closes their ears. Duncan hesitated, unwilling to obey, but Cora said with a calm smile:

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

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

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

Listen, - answered the Indian, putting his hand on the girl's shoulder, as if trying to make her pay special attention to the words he intended to say to her; however, Cora resolutely, although completely calmly, pulled away from the savage. - Magua was born a leader and warrior of a tribe of red lakeside Hurons. He had seen twenty times the summer sun melt the snow of twenty winters, turning the drifts into streams, before he met the first pale-faced man. He was happy then! Then white people broke into his forests, taught him to drink fire water, and he became an idler. 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 threw him into the hands of his enemies. Magua, born chief of the Hurons, became a warrior of his enemies, the Mohawks.

I've heard about it before," said Cora, noticing that the Huron had gone silent.

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

But is it Cunning 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 delusions?

Listen, - repeated the Indian, again taking on 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 Palefaces drove the Redskins out of the woods they hunted in, and now, when the Indian tribes are at war, they are being led by a white man. The great leader under Horiken, your father, was at the head of our detachment. He ordered the Mohawks to do this and that, and they obeyed him. He announced that the Indian would drink fire water and come to the linen wigwams of his warriors, this would not be forgotten. Magua imprudently opened his mouth, and the burning drink led him to Munro's hut. Let the daughter of the gray-haired man tell what the chief has done.

He did not forget his promises and acted justly by punishing the guilty, - the fearless girl answered.

- "Fair"! repeated the Indian, throwing an angry glance at her calm face. - Is it fair, having done evil, to punish for it? Magua was not himself, the fiery water spoke and acted, and not he. Munro did not believe this. The leader of the Hurons was tied up in front of pale-faced warriors and beaten like a dog!

Cora was silent, not knowing what to answer to these words.

Look! continued Magua, ripping off the light chintz that hid his painted chest. - Look: here are the scars from the wounds inflicted by knives and bullets. With these scars a warrior can boast in front of his fellow tribesmen, but, by the grace of the gray-haired one, signs 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 leader is patient, that his spirit does not feel and does not know the pain that his body endures.

When the Chippeweys tied Magua to a post and inflicted this wound on him, - the red-skinned man answered, pointing with his finger at a deep scar, - the Huron laughed in their eyes, saying that only women are capable of stabbing so gently. In those moments his spirit was in the clouds. But when he felt Munro's blows, his lowered spirit lay under the birch. The spirit of the Huron never gets drunk and never forgets anything.

But he can be calmed down. If my father treated you unjustly, show him that an Indian is able to forgive the insult and return his daughters to him. From Major Hayward you have already heard...

Magua shook his head sternly; he did not want to hear again what he despised in his soul.

What do you require? continued Cora, after several minutes of agonizing silence, feeling that the noble and generous Duncan had been cruelly deceived by the savage's cunning.

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

So, you want to take revenge on defenseless daughters for the insult inflicted on you by Munro? Isn't it more worthy of a brave husband to go straight to him and demand satisfaction?

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

Say, 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 in the thickets of the forest, or are you planning an even greater evil? Are there no gifts that could make amends for the insult done to you and soften your heart? I ask you to at least release 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 daughters, he will probably go to the grave. Who then will give the Fox generous gifts?

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

What should I promise? Cora asked, holding back the native's rage with her feminine pride and calmness.

When Magua left the Hurons, his wife was given to another leader. 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 daughter of an English chief must go with him and live forever in his wigwam.

Suppressing her indignation, the proud Cora calmly asked the Indian:

Would Magua be pleased to share his dwelling with a wife whom he did not love, with the wife of a tribe of pale faces alien to him? I think he would do better by accepting Munro's gold and buying with his gifts the heart of some Huron girl.

The Indian was silent for a minute, looking into Cora's face with such an expression that her eyes drooped in shame. Then he replied with particular malice:

In that case, feeling the blows on his back again, the Huron would know where to find a woman to whom he would convey his suffering. Munro's beautiful daughter would carry water for him, reap his bread, roast his food. The body of the gray-haired leader would have slept among the cannons, but the Sly Fox would have held his heart in her hands.

Monster! You well deserve your nickname! cried Cora, seized with a fit of indignation. "Only the devil can come up with such revenge!" But you are mistaken: you consider yourself too strong. True, the heart of Munro 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. 2 part., read text

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

The Last of the Mohicans. 3 part.
The girl's bold words brought a sinister smile to the face of the Huron, which...

The Last of the Mohicans. 4 part.
"True, young man, true," the impatient old man interrupted him. ...

James Fenimore COOPER

THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS

I'm ready to know the worst

And the terrible thing that you could bring to me,

Ready to hear the bad news

Answer quickly - did the kingdom perish ?!

Perhaps, along the 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 of the cruel and ferocious wars of 1755-1763 than in the area lying at the source of the Hudson and near the neighboring lakes. This area provided such conveniences for the movement of troops that they could not be neglected.

The waters of Champlain stretched from Canada and deep into the New York colony; consequently, Lake Champlain served as the most convenient way 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 - Holy Lake - merge with it.

The holy lake meanders between countless islets, and is crowded by low coastal mountains. In bends it stretches far to the south, where it rests on a plateau. From this point began the many miles of portage, which led the traveler to the banks of the Hudson; here navigation along the river became convenient, since the current was free from rapids.

In carrying out their military plans, the French tried to penetrate into the most remote and inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains and turned their attention to the natural advantages of the region we have just described. Indeed, it soon became the bloody arena of numerous battles by which the warring parties hoped to settle the question of possession of the colonies.

Here, in the most important places, towering over the surrounding roads, fortresses grew; they were seized first by one, then the other hostile 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 went deep into virgin forests. Few returned from there, exhausted by hardships and hardships, discouraged by failures.

Although this restless 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 echoed the laughter, then the cries of many, many carefree young brave men who, in the prime of their lives, hastened here to plunge into the deep sleep of a long night of oblivion.

It was in this arena of bloody wars that the events that we will try to tell about unfolded. Our narrative dates back to the third year of the war between France and England, fighting for power over a country that was not destined to be held in their hands by either side.

The dullness of the generals abroad, and the pernicious inactivity of the councilors at court, have robbed Great Britain of that proud prestige which had been won by the talent and courage of her former warriors and statesmen. The British troops were defeated by a handful of French and Indians; this unexpected defeat left much of the frontier unguarded. And now, after real disasters, many imaginary, imaginary dangers have grown. In every gust of wind that wafted from the boundless forests, the frightened settlers seemed to have wild cries and the ominous howl of the Indians.

Under the influence of fear, the danger assumed unprecedented proportions; common sense could not fight the troubled imagination. Even the most daring, self-confident and energetic began to doubt the favorable outcome of the struggle. The number of cowardly and cowardly 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 be devastated by the Indian tribes - the allies of France.

Therefore, when news came to the English fortress, which towered 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 the soldier is like leaves in the forest", terrible the message was received with cowardly resignation rather than with the stern satisfaction that a warrior should feel when he finds an enemy near him. The news of Montcalm's approach to the wharf at the height of summer; it was brought by an Indian at the hour when the day was already drawing to a close. Together with the terrible news, the messenger conveyed to the camp commander the request of 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 the inhabitant of the forests covered for two hours, a military detachment, with its wagon train, could cover between sunrise and sunset. Loyal supporters of the English crown named one of these fortifications Fort William Henry, and the other Fort Edward, after the princes of the royal family. Munro, a veteran Scot, commanded Fort William Henry.

It contained one of the regular regiments and a small detachment of colonial volunteers; it was a garrison too small to deal with the advancing forces of Montcalm.

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

However, frightened by failures, the English generals and their subordinates preferred to wait in their fortress for the approach of a formidable enemy, not risking going out to meet Montcalm in order to surpass the successful performance of the French at Fort Decesne, give the enemy a 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 hundred and fifty hundred selected detachment should move at dawn from the fortress to Fort William Henry. This rumor was soon confirmed; learned that several detachments received orders to hastily prepare for the campaign.

Current page: 1 (total book has 25 pages) [accessible reading excerpt: 17 pages]

James Fenimore Cooper

© Parfenova A., compilation, preface, comments, 2013

© DepositPhotos.com / Andrey Kuzmin, cover, 2013

© Shutterstock.com / Triff cover 2013

© Hemiro Ltd, Russian edition, 2013

© Book Club "Family Leisure Club", 2013

* * *

Foreword

James Cooper (Fenimore - the maiden name of the writer's mother, taken by him as a pseudonym in the mature years of his work) was born in 1789 in the taiga state of New York, teeming 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 prospered thanks to the business and political talents of the head of the family, Judge Cooper, James, along with his brothers and sisters, grew up on the shores of Lake Otsego, next to the vast agricultural land that the settlers wrested with great labor from the forest. Family life flowed between the correct Christian household in the British way, in which respect for elders and a gentlemanly, chivalrous attitude towards women reigned, and the boundless wild taiga, which was inhabited by predators and those whom the settlers feared even more - the Indians.

Years have passed. James left the wild, became a law student, dreaming of a political career, then joined the Navy and sailed for two years on warships, then married his girlfriend, Susan Delancey, who belonged to one of the best families of the then New York (city). And then misfortunes rained down on his family, previously cheerful and prosperous. Hannah, beloved sister and confidante of James, was the first to fall from a horse, then his father died in the prime of his life, and then four of his older brothers died one after another. The burden of caring for the farmland, ships and factories that belonged to the family fell on the shoulders of James, along with the need to look after the well-being of the families of his deceased brothers - Cooper had more than twenty nephews and nieces. Unfortunately, having more than endowed the business talents of Cooper the father, fate and nature were not generous in this regard to James. Economic failures, fires, unpaid loans, litigation with neighbors, who quickly realized that the young Cooper was not at all as entrepreneurial 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 correct the situation, and a little later, when the children of the eldest of the brothers became adults, he was relieved to transfer the remaining family property to their management.

In 1815, the Coopers moved to Mamaroneck (now a suburb of New York), to the house of a father-in-law on Long Island, where James began his political activities, and in 1818 they built their own house in Scarsdale (another suburb of New York). 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 around 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 particularly fond of the works of Walter Scott and Jane Austen. But often she had to read the novels of 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 moment that James had the patience for this. However, a loving husband turned out to be on top. In November 1820, when James Cooper was in his thirties, the New York publishing house of Andrew Thompson Goodrich anonymously published his novel The Precaution. It was a family saga that imitated the English women writers of the time rather well. Wife loved the novel. The publication did not bring money to Cooper, but this work helped him discover a new productive field for which his natural inclinations could come in handy - excellent storytelling qualities, an analytical mind and a need for creativity.

James Cooper began writing as an established adult. Here is what he wrote in 1822 in the journal Literary and Scientific Repository and Critical Review: “Good prose, paradoxical though it may seem, appeals to our natural love of truth, to the highest truth, which is the nature and the main principle of the human mind. An interesting novel addresses, first of all, our moral foundations, a sense of justice and other principles and feelings that Providence has endowed us with, addresses the human heart, which is the same for all people. Writers should avoid topics such as politics, religion or social issues, and focus on 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 political illusions. As a consistent humanist and representative of the romantic trend in literature, he takes a small private story and, telling it, shows us the "moral and social characteristics" of all America of that period.

The innate sense of justice with which James Cooper, as a true gentleman, was generously endowed, 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.

In the United States, there has long been a debate about whether the destruction of American Indians by white European settlers was genocide. During the colonization, for various reasons, died, according to various sources, from 15 to 100 million indigenous inhabitants of the continent. The settlers poisoned the rivers along which entire tribes lived, burned 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.

It is still difficult for Americans, who are accustomed to consider themselves infallible, 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, therefore, over and over again, when considering this issue in Congress or in the Senate, they decide: there was no genocide .

Let's leave it on their conscience and turn to the best, according to critics, James Fenimore Cooper's novel "The Last of the Mohicans", the very title of which paints a tragic picture of the disappearance of an entire people.

The protagonist of the novel is Natty Bumpo, his other names are Hawkeye, Long Carbine or Leather Stocking. Natty is a hunter and trapper, from the lower classes of society, but in fact a hermit philosopher. He does not understand and does not accept the "onset of progress" and goes away from it deeper and deeper into the bowels of the continent. As a true romantic hero, he draws his strength from nature, it is she who gives him clarity of mind and moral certainty. This character, much loved by readers, runs through all of Cooper's wild life novels.

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, combined with regret and anxiety. His image begins with such a high note that I was afraid that this note would be able to be sustained to the end. One of my friends said: “How I would like to 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 Bumpo and Chingachgook, an Indian from the extinct Mohican tribe, is an immortal creation of world literature. It is told against the backdrop of the Seven Years' War between the British and the French over possession of those parts of North America that are located on the border of the present United States and present French Canada.

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

Contemporary critics of Cooper reproached him for idealizing the Indians. W. Parrington, a well-known American culturologist, 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, the realist Cooper takes over the romantic Cooper. The coming death of the American Indian civilization is the reality in which his characters live, act and die.

The author tells extremely delicately and chastely about the love of the daughter of an English colonel and the son of an Indian chief. With sparing, but unusually poetic strokes, Cooper paints this story. Some researchers saw deep symbolism in the love and death of Uncas and Kora. Cora, part African, and Uncas, red-skinned, have no future in America, they are victims of disgusting phenomena of American life, 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 speech stream we absorb the influence of her ideas, which are alien to us and destructive to us." And the London New Monthly wrote: "To speak of American literature is to speak of 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 most typically national ... His books are a true mirror of that rough Atlantean nature, which seems strange and new to the European eye. The sea and the forest are the scenes of the most outstanding 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 heart prepared.
Tell me how it is, even if it becomes bitter:
Is the kingdom gone?

W. Shakespeare1
Poetic epigraphs translated by E. Petrushevsky.

Perhaps, throughout the 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 of the cruel and ferocious wars of 1755-1763. 1
…cruel and ferocious wars of 1755-1763... - During these years, England and France waged 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 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, was waged by the British against the French royal troops and the Indian tribes allied with them. The war actually ended in 1760 with the capture of Montreal by the British and the end of the French presence in North America. The whole territory of Canada then came under the rule of England. The Treaty of Paris put a legal end to this war in 1763.

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

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

Champlain's water surface 2
Champlain's water surface... - 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 supposedly living in it.

It stretched out from Canada and went deep into the colony of New York; consequently, Lake Champlain served as the most convenient way 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 crowded by low coastal mountains. In bends it stretches far to the south, where it rests on a plateau. From this point began many miles of portage 3
…multi-mile portage... - Drag - a pass in the upper reaches of the rivers of various basins, comes from the word "drag" (drag). Vessels were dragged through portages in a dry way - by portage.

Which brought the traveler to the banks of the Hudson; here navigation along the river became convenient, since the current was free from rapids.

Fulfilling their warlike plans, the French tried to penetrate into the most remote and inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains. 4
... the inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains... - Allegheny - mountains in the Appalachian system, the eastern part of the plateau of the same name. Located on the territory of the current states of Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania (USA).

And they drew attention to the natural advantages of the area we have just described. Indeed, it soon became the bloody arena of numerous battles by which the warring parties hoped to settle the question of possession of the colonies.

Here, at the most important points, towering over the surrounding roads, fortresses grew; they were seized first by one, then the other hostile 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 went deep into virgin forests. Few returned from there, exhausted by hardships and hardships, discouraged by failures.

Although this restless 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 echoed the laughter, then the cries of many, many carefree young brave men who, in the prime of their lives, hastened here to plunge into the deep sleep of a long night of oblivion.

It was in this arena of bloody wars that the events that we will try to tell about unfolded. Our narrative dates back to the third year of the war between France and England, who fought for power over a country that was not destined to be held in their hands by either side. 5
…over a country that was not destined to be held in their hands by either side... - The lands for which the war described in the novel was fought did not eventually become either the property of England or the property of France. This territory became the property of the United States of America, a state that gained full independence from England in 1776, during the life of Natty Bumpo, the protagonist of the novel.

The dullness of the generals abroad, and the pernicious inactivity of the advisers at court, have robbed Great Britain of that proud prestige which had been won by the talent and courage of her former warriors and statesmen. The British troops were defeated by a handful of French and Indians; this unexpected defeat left much of the frontier unguarded. And now, after real disasters, many imaginary, imaginary dangers have grown. In every gust of wind that wafted from the boundless forests, the frightened settlers seemed to have wild cries and the ominous howl of the Indians.

Under the influence of fear, the danger assumed unprecedented proportions; common sense could not fight the troubled imagination. Even the most daring, self-confident and energetic began to doubt the favorable outcome of the struggle. The number of cowardly and cowardly 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 be devastated by the Indian tribes - the allies of France.

Therefore, when the English fortress, towering in the southern part of the plateau between the Hudson and the lakes, came the news of the appearance near Champlain of the Marquis of Montcalm 6
…about the appearance near Champlain of the Marquis of Montcalm... - Louis-Joseph de Montcalm-Gozon, Marquis de Saint-Veran (February 28, 1712, Nimes, France - September 14, 1759, Quebec), - French military leader, commander of French troops in North America during the Seven Years' War. In 1756 he was appointed commander of the French troops in North America. During the first years of the French and Indian War, he conducted a number of successful military operations against the 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 end of Lake George. In 1758, he utterly defeated the English forces that were five times superior to him in the battle for Fort Carillon, demonstrating 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 an unsuccessful battle for him on the plain of Abraham, which ensured a military victory for the British in the war for the North American colonies. To the disappointing forecasts of the doctors, he calmly replied: “So much the better. I'm happy I won't 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 talkers added that this general was moving with a detachment "in which the soldiers were like leaves in the forest," the terrible message was received more with cowardly humility than with the harsh satisfaction that a warrior should have felt when he found an enemy next to him. The news of Montcalm's advance came at the height of summer; it was brought by an Indian at that hour, when the day was already declining towards evening. Together with the terrible news, the messenger conveyed to the camp commander the request of 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 the inhabitant of the forests covered within two hours, a military detachment with its convoy could cover between sunrise and sunset. Loyal supporters of the English crown named one of these fortifications Fort William Henry, and the other Fort Edward, after the princes of the royal family. Munro, a veteran Scot, commanded Fort William Henry. It contained one of the regular regiments and a small detachment of colonial volunteers; it was a garrison too small to deal with the advancing forces of Montcalm.

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

However, frightened by failures, the English generals and their subordinates preferred to wait in their fortress for the approach of a formidable enemy, not risking going out to meet Montcalm in order to surpass the successful performance of the French at Fort Duquesne 7
…successful performance of the French at Duquesne Fort... - The Battle of Fort Duquesne was a battle fought between allied French-Indian and British troops at Fort Duquesne in North America on September 15, 1758, during the French and Indian War. The battle was the result of an unsuccessful reconnaissance of the British troops under the command of General John Forbes in the vicinity of the French Fort Duquesne. It ended with the victory of the French-Indian side.

Give the enemy a fight 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 hundred and fifty hundred selected detachment should move at dawn from the fortress to Fort William Henry. This rumor was soon confirmed; learned that several detachments received orders to hastily prepare for the campaign. All doubts about Webb's intentions dissipated, and for two or three hours hurried running was heard in the camp, anxious faces flickered. The recruit anxiously scurried back and forth, fussed and with his excessive zeal only slowed down the preparations for the performance; the experienced veteran armed himself quite calmly, unhurriedly, although his stern features and worried look clearly showed that the terrible struggle in the forests did not particularly please his heart.

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

According to the order given the evening before, 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, resoundingly resounding in every corner of the forest; day was breaking, the cloudless sky was brightening in the east, and the outlines of tall, shaggy pines stood out more distinctly and sharper in it. A minute later, life began to boil in the camp: even the most negligent soldier rose to his feet to see the detachment's performance and, together with his comrades, to survive the unrest of this moment. The simple gathering of the acting detachment soon ended. The soldiers lined up in battle groups. Royal Mercenaries 8
Royal Mercenaries... - European, in particular German, Hessian, mercenaries took part in the Seven Years' War on the side of the British.

Showed off on the right flank; the more modest volunteers, from among the settlers, dutifully took their places on the left.

The scouts came out. A strong convoy escorted wagons with camping equipment; and before the first rays of the sun had penetrated the gray morning, the column was on its way. Leaving the camp, the column had a formidable, warlike appearance; this view was supposed to drown out the vague fears of many recruits who were to endure 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 fall silent in the distance, and finally died away completely. The forest closed, hiding the detachment from view.

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

Nevertheless, judging by what was happening in front of the largest and most comfortable of the officers' barracks, someone else was preparing to move. Several beautifully saddled horses stood in front of Webb's cabin; two of them were apparently intended for women of high rank, who were not often seen in these forests. In the saddle of the third officer's pistols flaunted 9
…officer pistols. - British officers purchased pistols for military operations at their own expense. During the French and Indian War, flintlock pistols 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, quite ready to leave, were apparently only waiting for the order of the chief to jump into the saddle. Groups of idle spectators stood at a respectful distance; some of them admired the pure breed of the officer's horse, others followed the preparations for departure with dull curiosity.

However, among the spectators there was one person whose manner and bearing distinguished him from the rest. His figure was not ugly, but meanwhile it seemed utterly awkward. When this man stood, he was taller than the rest of the people; but sitting he seemed no larger than his brothers. His head was too large, his shoulders too narrow, his arms long, clumsy, with small, graceful hands. The thinness of his unusually long legs reached the extreme; the knees were unreasonably thick. The strange, even ridiculous costume of the eccentric emphasized the awkwardness of his figure. The low collar of his sky-blue doublet did not at all cover his long, thin neck; the short skirts of the caftan allowed scoffers to make fun of his thin legs. Yellow tight nanke trousers came to the knees; here they were intercepted by large white bows, frayed and dirty. Gray stockings and boots completed the costume of a clumsy eccentric. On one of his shoes was a spur of applied silver. From a voluminous waistcoat pocket, heavily soiled and adorned with blackened silver galloons, peeped out an unknown instrument, which in this military environment could be mistaken for some mysterious and incomprehensible weapon of war. A high triangular hat, like those worn by parsons thirty years ago, crowned the head of an eccentric and gave a respectable air to the good-natured features of this man.

Groups of privates kept a respectful distance from Webb's house; but the character we have just described stepped boldly into the crowd of the general's servants. The strange man looked at the horses without hesitation; praised some, scolded others.

- This horse is not home-grown, it was probably discharged from abroad ... maybe even from an island lying far, far away, beyond the blue seas 10
... from an island lying far, far away, beyond the blue seas ...- I mean England, the metropolis.

, - he said in a voice that struck with its harmonious softness, just as his whole figure surprised with its unusual proportions. - I will say without boasting: I can safely talk about such things. After all, I have been in both harbors: and in the one that is located at the mouth of the Thames and is called by the name of the capital of old England 11
…named after the capital of old England… – The very first, most ancient capital of England was the city of York.

And in the one that is simply called New Haven - New Harbor. I saw how the brigantines and barges 12
…brigantines and barges... - A brigantine is a two-masted sailing vessel with mixed sailing rigging: straight sails on the front mast (fore mast) and oblique sails on the back (main mast). Initially, the brigantines were equipped with oars. In the XVI-XIX centuries, two-masted brigantines, as a rule, were used by pirates (ital. brigante robber, pirate). They were distributed in all regions - from the Mediterranean to the Pacific Ocean. The armament of the brigantine did not exceed 20 guns. Barka - river non-self-propelled cargo ship towed by human, horse or other traction.

They collected animals, as if for an ark, and sent them to the island of Jamaica; there these four-legged animals were sold or bartered. But I have never seen such a horse. How does it say in the Bible? “He beats the ground with his hoof, rejoicing in strength, and rushes towards the battle 13
« He beats the ground with his hoof, rejoicing in strength, and rushes towards the battle ... "– Job 39:21.

Among the sounds of the trumpet, he exclaims: “Ha, ha!” He smells the battle from afar and hears the war cry. It's ancient blood, isn't it, friend?

Having received no answer to his so unusual appeal, which was expressed with such fullness and power of a sonorous voice that it deserved some attention, the speaker turned to the silently standing man who was his involuntary listener, and a new, even more admirable object appeared before the gaze of the eccentric. . He fixed his eyes with surprise on the motionless, straight and slender figure of the Indian walker, who brought gloomy news to the camp.

Although the Indian stood as if made of stone and seemed not to pay the slightest attention to the noise and animation that reigned around him, the features of his calm face at the same time expressed a gloomy ferocity that would certainly have attracted the attention of a more experienced observer than one who looked at him now with undisguised surprise. The Indian was armed with a tomahawk 14
…armed with tomahawk... - Tomahawk - originally - a stone blade tied to a wooden ax handle, the weapon of the American Indians at the beginning of the European conquest. Subsequently, the blade became metal, even later, with the advent of metal knives and guns, the tomahawk retained only a ritual meaning, combining a wand and a smoking pipe.

And with a knife, but meanwhile he did not look like a real warrior. On the contrary, there was a carelessness in his whole appearance, possibly due to some great recent tension from which he had not yet had time to recover. On the stern face of the native, the military coloration blurred 15
On the stern face of the native, the military coloration blurred... - The custom to paint the face and body was born from the beliefs of the Indians. The coloring helped to determine the place in the tribe, the state of health, social intentions and other important moments of daily life. Painted wrists - a symbol of escape from captivity; the number of black stripes on the face indicated the number of enemies killed; black circles around the eyes, according to the ideas of the Indians, helped to see enemies in the dark. Starting the war, they painted the left half of the face red, and the right half white.

And from this, his dark features involuntarily looked even more wild and repulsive than in the skillful patterns induced to intimidate enemies. Only his eyes, sparkling like bright stars between clouds, burned with wild malice. Only for a single moment did the fast, gloomy look of the runner catch the astonished expression of the observer's eyes, and immediately, partly out of cunning, partly out of disdain, turned in the other direction, somewhere far, far away into space.

Suddenly the servants began to fuss, gentle women's voices were heard, and all this announced the approach of those who were expected to move the whole cavalcade on their way. The man, who had been admiring the officer's horse, suddenly retreated to his short, skinny horse with a tied tail, which was nibbling on the dry grass; With one elbow, the eccentric leaned on the woolen blanket that replaced his saddle, and began to watch the departing. At this time, a colt approached his horse from the opposite side and began to feast on her milk.

A young man in an officer's uniform led two girls, apparently sisters, to the horses, who, judging by their costumes, were preparing to set off on an exhausting journey through the forests.

Suddenly the wind threw back the long green veil attached to the hat of the one who seemed to be the youngest (although they were both very young); from under the veil appeared a dazzling white face, golden hair, brilliant blue eyes. The delicate colors of the sky, which still spilled over the pines, were not as bright and beautiful as the blush of her cheeks; the beginning of the day was not as bright as her animated smile, which she bestowed on the young man who helped her into the saddle.

The officer treated the second rider with the same attention, whose face was carefully hidden by a veil. She seemed older than her sister and was a little fatter.

As soon as the girls got on the horses, the young man easily jumped into the saddle. All three bowed to General Webb, who had come out on the porch to see the travelers off, turned their horses, and set off at a light trot towards the north exit of the camp. Several of the lower ranks rode after them. While the riders crossed the space that separated them from the main road, none of them uttered a word, only the youngest of the horsemen cried out slightly, when an Indian walker unexpectedly slipped past her and moved along the military road with quick, smooth steps. The eldest of the sisters did not utter a sound when the Indian walker appeared. In surprise, she released the folds of her veil and her face was revealed. Regret, admiration and horror flickered in her features. This girl's hair was the color of a raven's wing. Her untanned face showed bright colors, although there was not the slightest hint of rudeness in it. Her features were distinguished by subtlety, nobility and striking beauty. As if regretting her forgetfulness, she smiled, a set of even teeth flashing, the whiteness of which could rival the best ivory.

Then, adjusting her veil, the girl lowered her head and continued on her way in silence, like a person whose thoughts are far from everything around her.

Perhaps, throughout the vast stretch of frontier that separated the possessions of the French from the territory of the English colonies of North America, there are no more eloquent monuments of the cruel and ferocious wars of 1755-1763 than in the area lying at the headwaters of the Hudson and near the adjacent lakes. This area provided such conveniences for the movement of troops that they could not be neglected.

The waters of Champlain stretched from Canada and deep into the New York colony; consequently, Lake Champlain served as the most convenient way 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 Horiken, the Holy Lake, merge with it.

The holy lake meanders between countless islets, and is crowded by low coastal mountains. In bends it stretches far to the south, where it rests on a plateau. From this point began the many miles of portage, which led the traveler to the banks of the Hudson; here navigation along the river became convenient, since the current was free from rapids.

In carrying out their military plans, the French tried to penetrate into the most remote and inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains and turned their 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 solve the issue of possession of colonies.

Here, in the most important places, towering over the surrounding roads, fortresses grew; they were seized first by one, then the other hostile 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 went deep into virgin forests. Few returned from there, exhausted by hardships and hardships, discouraged by failures.

Although this restless 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, then the screams of many, many carefree young brave men who, in the prime of life, hastened here to sink into the deep sleep of a long night of oblivion.

It was in this arena of bloody wars that the events that we will try to tell about unfolded. Our narrative dates back to the third year of the war between France and England, fighting for power over a country that was not destined to be held in their hands by either side.

The dullness of the generals abroad, and the pernicious inactivity of the councilors at court, have robbed Great Britain of that proud prestige which had been won for her by the talent and courage of her former warriors and statesmen. The British troops were defeated by a handful of French and Indians; this unexpected defeat left much of the frontier unguarded. And now, after real disasters, many imaginary, imaginary dangers have grown. In every gust of wind that wafted from the boundless forests, the frightened settlers seemed to have wild cries and the ominous howl of the Indians.

Under the influence of fear, the danger assumed unprecedented proportions; common sense could not fight the troubled imagination. Even the most daring, self-confident and energetic began to doubt the favorable outcome of the struggle. The number of cowardly and cowardly 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 be devastated by the Indian tribes - the allies of France.

Therefore, when news came to the English fortress, which towered 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 the soldier is like leaves in the forest,” terrible the message was received with cowardly resignation rather than with the stern satisfaction that a warrior should feel when he finds an enemy near him. The news of Montcalm's advance came at the height of summer; it was brought by an Indian at the hour when the day was already drawing to a close. Together with the terrible news, the messenger conveyed to the camp commander the request of 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 the inhabitant of the forests covered for two hours, a military detachment, with its wagon train, could cover between sunrise and sunset. Loyal supporters of the English crown named one of these fortifications Fort William Henry, and the other Fort Edward, after the princes of the royal family. Munro, a veteran Scot, 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 deal with the advancing forces of Montcalm.

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

However, frightened by failures, the English generals and their subordinates preferred to wait in their fortress for the approach of a formidable enemy, not risking going out to meet Montcalm in order to surpass the successful performance of the French at Fort Duquesne, give the enemy a 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 hundred and fifty hundred selected detachment should move at dawn from the fortress to Fort William Henry. This rumor was soon confirmed; learned that several detachments received orders to hastily prepare for the campaign. All doubts about Webb's intentions dissipated, and for two or three hours hurried running was heard in the camp, anxious faces flickered. The recruit anxiously scurried back and forth, fussed and with his excessive zeal only slowed down the preparations for the performance; the experienced veteran armed himself quite calmly, unhurriedly, although his stern features and worried look clearly showed that the terrible struggle in the forests did not particularly please his heart.

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

According to the order given the evening before, the deep sleep of the soldiers was disturbed by the deafening roar of drums, and a resounding echo carried far in the damp morning air, echoing in every corner of the forest; day was breaking, the cloudless sky was brightening in the east, and the outlines of tall, shaggy pines stood out more distinctly and sharper in it. A minute later life began to boil in the camp; even the most negligent soldier rose to his feet to see the detachment march and, together with his comrades, to experience the excitement of this moment. The simple gathering of the acting detachment soon ended. The soldiers lined up in battle groups. Royal mercenaries flaunted on the right flank; the more modest volunteers, from among the settlers, dutifully took their places on the left.

© Parfenova A., compilation, preface, comments, 2013

© DepositPhotos.com / Andrey Kuzmin, cover, 2013

© Shutterstock.com / Triff cover 2013

© Hemiro Ltd, Russian edition, 2013

© Book Club "Family Leisure Club", 2013

* * *

Foreword

James Cooper (Fenimore - the maiden name of the writer's mother, taken by him as a pseudonym in the mature years of his work) was born in 1789 in the taiga state of New York, teeming 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 prospered thanks to the business and political talents of the head of the family, Judge Cooper, James, along with his brothers and sisters, grew up on the shores of Lake Otsego, next to the vast agricultural land that the settlers wrested with great labor from the forest. Family life flowed between the correct Christian household in the British way, in which respect for elders and a gentlemanly, chivalrous attitude towards women reigned, and the boundless wild taiga, which was inhabited by predators and those whom the settlers feared even more - the Indians.

Years have passed. James left the wild, became a law student, dreaming of a political career, then joined the Navy and sailed for two years on warships, then married his girlfriend, Susan Delancey, who belonged to one of the best families of the then New York (city). And then misfortunes rained down on his family, previously cheerful and prosperous. Hannah, beloved sister and confidante of James, was the first to fall from a horse, then his father died in the prime of his life, and then four of his older brothers died one after another. The burden of caring for the farmland, ships and factories that belonged to the family fell on the shoulders of James, along with the need to look after the well-being of the families of his deceased brothers - Cooper had more than twenty nephews and nieces. Unfortunately, having more than endowed the business talents of Cooper the father, fate and nature were not generous in this regard to James. Economic failures, fires, unpaid loans, litigation with neighbors, who quickly realized that the young Cooper was not at all as entrepreneurial 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 correct the situation, and a little later, when the children of the eldest of the brothers became adults, he was relieved to transfer the remaining family property to their management.

In 1815, the Coopers moved to Mamaroneck (now a suburb of New York), to the house of a father-in-law on Long Island, where James began his political activities, and in 1818 they built their own house in Scarsdale (another suburb of New York). 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 around 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 particularly fond of the works of Walter Scott and Jane Austen. But often she had to read the novels of 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 moment that James had the patience for this. However, a loving husband turned out to be on top. In November 1820, when James Cooper was in his thirties, the New York publishing house of Andrew Thompson Goodrich anonymously published his novel The Precaution. It was a family saga that imitated the English women writers of the time rather well. Wife loved the novel. The publication did not bring money to Cooper, but this work helped him discover a new productive field for which his natural inclinations could come in handy - excellent storytelling qualities, an analytical mind and a need for creativity.

James Cooper began writing as an established adult. Here is what he wrote in 1822 in the journal Literary and Scientific Repository and Critical Review: “Good prose, paradoxical though it may seem, appeals to our natural love of truth, to the highest truth, which is the nature and the main principle of the human mind. An interesting novel addresses, first of all, our moral foundations, a sense of justice and other principles and feelings that Providence has endowed us with, addresses the human heart, which is the same for all people. Writers should avoid topics such as politics, religion or social issues, and focus on 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 political illusions. As a consistent humanist and representative of the romantic trend in literature, he takes a small private story and, telling it, shows us the "moral and social characteristics" of all America of that period.

The innate sense of justice with which James Cooper, as a true gentleman, was generously endowed, 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.

In the United States, there has long been a debate about whether the destruction of American Indians by white European settlers was genocide. During the colonization, for various reasons, died, according to various sources, from 15 to 100 million indigenous inhabitants of the continent. The settlers poisoned the rivers along which entire tribes lived, burned 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.

It is still difficult for Americans, who are accustomed to consider themselves infallible, 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, therefore, over and over again, when considering this issue in Congress or in the Senate, they decide: there was no genocide .

Let's leave it on their conscience and turn to the best, according to critics, James Fenimore Cooper's novel "The Last of the Mohicans", the very title of which paints a tragic picture of the disappearance of an entire people.

The protagonist of the novel is Natty Bumpo, his other names are Hawkeye, Long Carbine or Leather Stocking. Natty is a hunter and trapper, from the lower classes of society, but in fact a hermit philosopher. He does not understand and does not accept the "onset of progress" and goes away from it deeper and deeper into the bowels of the continent. As a true romantic hero, he draws his strength from nature, it is she who gives him clarity of mind and moral certainty. This character, much loved by readers, runs through all of Cooper's wild life novels.

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, combined with regret and anxiety. His image begins with such a high note that I was afraid that this note would be able to be sustained to the end. One of my friends said: “How I would like to 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 Bumpo and Chingachgook, an Indian from the extinct Mohican tribe, is an immortal creation of world literature. It is told against the backdrop of the Seven Years' War between the British and the French over possession of those parts of North America that are located on the border of the present United States and present French Canada.

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

Contemporary critics of Cooper reproached him for idealizing the Indians. W. Parrington, a well-known American culturologist, 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, the realist Cooper takes over the romantic Cooper. The coming death of the American Indian civilization is the reality in which his characters live, act and die.

The author tells extremely delicately and chastely about the love of the daughter of an English colonel and the son of an Indian chief. With sparing, but unusually poetic strokes, Cooper paints this story. Some researchers saw deep symbolism in the love and death of Uncas and Kora. Cora, part African, and Uncas, red-skinned, have no future in America, they are victims of disgusting phenomena of American life, 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 speech stream we absorb the influence of her ideas, which are alien to us and destructive to us." And the London New Monthly wrote: "To speak of American literature is to speak of 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 most typically national ... His books are a true mirror of that rough Atlantean nature, which seems strange and new to the European eye. The sea and the forest are the scenes of the most outstanding 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 heart prepared.
Tell me how it is, even if it becomes bitter:
Is the kingdom gone?

W. Shakespeare1
Poetic epigraphs translated by E. Petrushevsky.

Perhaps, throughout the 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 of the cruel and ferocious wars of 1755-1763. 1
…cruel and ferocious wars of 1755-1763... - During these years, England and France waged 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 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, was waged by the British against the French royal troops and the Indian tribes allied with them. The war actually ended in 1760 with the capture of Montreal by the British and the end of the French presence in North America. The whole territory of Canada then came under the rule of England. The Treaty of Paris put a legal end to this war in 1763.

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

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

Champlain's water surface 2
Champlain's water surface... - 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 supposedly living in it.

It stretched out from Canada and went deep into the colony of New York; consequently, Lake Champlain served as the most convenient way 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 crowded by low coastal mountains. In bends it stretches far to the south, where it rests on a plateau. From this point began many miles of portage 3
…multi-mile portage... - Drag - a pass in the upper reaches of the rivers of various basins, comes from the word "drag" (drag). Vessels were dragged through portages in a dry way - by portage.

Which brought the traveler to the banks of the Hudson; here navigation along the river became convenient, since the current was free from rapids.

Fulfilling their warlike plans, the French tried to penetrate into the most remote and inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains. 4
... the inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains... - Allegheny - mountains in the Appalachian system, the eastern part of the plateau of the same name. Located on the territory of the current states of Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania (USA).

And they drew attention to the natural advantages of the area we have just described. Indeed, it soon became the bloody arena of numerous battles by which the warring parties hoped to settle the question of possession of the colonies.

Here, at the most important points, towering over the surrounding roads, fortresses grew; they were seized first by one, then the other hostile 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 went deep into virgin forests. Few returned from there, exhausted by hardships and hardships, discouraged by failures.

Although this restless 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 echoed the laughter, then the cries of many, many carefree young brave men who, in the prime of their lives, hastened here to plunge into the deep sleep of a long night of oblivion.

It was in this arena of bloody wars that the events that we will try to tell about unfolded. Our narrative dates back to the third year of the war between France and England, who fought for power over a country that was not destined to be held in their hands by either side. 5
…over a country that was not destined to be held in their hands by either side... - The lands for which the war described in the novel was fought did not eventually become either the property of England or the property of France. This territory became the property of the United States of America, a state that gained full independence from England in 1776, during the life of Natty Bumpo, the protagonist of the novel.

The dullness of the generals abroad, and the pernicious inactivity of the advisers at court, have robbed Great Britain of that proud prestige which had been won by the talent and courage of her former warriors and statesmen. The British troops were defeated by a handful of French and Indians; this unexpected defeat left most of the frontier unguarded. And now, after real disasters, many imaginary, imaginary dangers have grown. In every gust of wind that wafted from the boundless forests, the frightened settlers seemed to have wild cries and the ominous howl of the Indians.

Under the influence of fear, the danger assumed unprecedented proportions; common sense could not fight the troubled imagination. Even the most daring, self-confident and energetic began to doubt the favorable outcome of the struggle. The number of cowardly and cowardly 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 be devastated by the Indian tribes - the allies of France.

Therefore, when the English fortress, towering in the southern part of the plateau between the Hudson and the lakes, came the news of the appearance near Champlain of the Marquis of Montcalm 6
…about the appearance near Champlain of the Marquis of Montcalm... - Louis-Joseph de Montcalm-Gozon, Marquis de Saint-Veran (February 28, 1712, Nimes, France - September 14, 1759, Quebec), - French military leader, commander of French troops in North America during the Seven Years' War. In 1756 he was appointed commander of the French troops in North America. During the first years of the French and Indian War, he conducted a number of successful military operations against the 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 end of Lake George. In 1758, he utterly defeated the English forces that were five times superior to him in the battle for Fort Carillon, demonstrating 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 an unsuccessful battle for him on the plain of Abraham, which ensured a military victory for the British in the war for the North American colonies. To the disappointing forecasts of the doctors, he calmly replied: “So much the better. I'm happy I won't 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 talkers added that this general was moving with a detachment "in which the soldiers were like leaves in the forest," the terrible message was received more with cowardly humility than with the harsh satisfaction that a warrior should have felt when he found an enemy next to him. The news of Montcalm's advance came at the height of summer; it was brought by an Indian at that hour, when the day was already declining towards evening. Together with the terrible news, the messenger conveyed to the camp commander the request of 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 the inhabitant of the forests covered within two hours, a military detachment with its convoy could cover between sunrise and sunset. Loyal supporters of the English crown named one of these fortifications Fort William Henry, and the other Fort Edward, after the princes of the royal family. Munro, a veteran Scot, commanded Fort William Henry. It contained one of the regular regiments and a small detachment of colonial volunteers; it was a garrison too small to deal with the advancing forces of Montcalm.

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

However, frightened by failures, the English generals and their subordinates preferred to wait in their fortress for the approach of a formidable enemy, not risking going out to meet Montcalm in order to surpass the successful performance of the French at Fort Duquesne 7
…successful performance of the French at Duquesne Fort... - The Battle of Fort Duquen - a battle that took place between the allied French-Indian and British troops at Fort Duquesne in North America on September 15, 1758, during the French and Indian War. The battle was the result of an unsuccessful reconnaissance of the British troops under the command of General John Forbes in the vicinity of the French Fort Duquesne. It ended with the victory of the French-Indian side.

Give the enemy a fight 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 hundred and fifty hundred selected detachment should move at dawn from the fortress to Fort William Henry. This rumor was soon confirmed; learned that several detachments received orders to hastily prepare for the campaign. All doubts about Webb's intentions dissipated, and for two or three hours hurried running was heard in the camp, anxious faces flickered. The recruit anxiously scurried back and forth, fussed and with his excessive zeal only slowed down the preparations for the performance; the experienced veteran armed himself quite calmly, unhurriedly, although his stern features and worried look clearly showed that the terrible struggle in the forests did not particularly please his heart.

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

According to the order given the evening before, 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, resoundingly resounding in every corner of the forest; day was breaking, the cloudless sky was brightening in the east, and the outlines of tall, shaggy pines stood out more distinctly and sharper in it. A minute later, life began to boil in the camp: even the most negligent soldier rose to his feet to see the detachment's performance and, together with his comrades, to survive the unrest of this moment. The simple gathering of the acting detachment soon ended. The soldiers lined up in battle groups. Royal Mercenaries 8
Royal Mercenaries... - European, in particular German, Hessian, mercenaries took part in the Seven Years' War on the side of the British.

Showed off on the right flank; the more modest volunteers, from among the settlers, dutifully took their places on the left.

The scouts came out. A strong convoy escorted wagons with camping equipment; and before the first rays of the sun had penetrated the gray morning, the column was on its way. Leaving the camp, the column had a formidable, warlike appearance; this view was supposed to drown out the vague fears of many recruits who were to endure 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 fall silent in the distance, and finally died away completely. The forest closed, hiding the detachment from view.

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

Nevertheless, judging by what was happening in front of the largest and most comfortable of the officers' barracks, someone else was preparing to move. Several beautifully saddled horses stood in front of Webb's cabin; two of them were apparently intended for women of high rank, who were not often seen in these forests. In the saddle of the third officer's pistols flaunted 9
…officer pistols. - British officers purchased pistols for military operations at their own expense. During the French and Indian War, flintlock pistols 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, quite ready to leave, were apparently only waiting for the order of the chief to jump into the saddle. Groups of idle spectators stood at a respectful distance; some of them admired the pure breed of the officer's horse, others followed the preparations for departure with dull curiosity.

However, among the spectators there was one person whose manner and bearing distinguished him from the rest. His figure was not ugly, but meanwhile it seemed utterly awkward. When this man stood, he was taller than the rest of the people; but sitting he seemed no larger than his brothers. His head was too large, his shoulders too narrow, his arms long, clumsy, with small, graceful hands. The thinness of his unusually long legs reached the extreme; the knees were unreasonably thick. The strange, even ridiculous costume of the eccentric emphasized the awkwardness of his figure. The low collar of his sky-blue doublet did not at all cover his long, thin neck; the short skirts of the caftan allowed scoffers to make fun of his thin legs. Yellow tight nanke trousers came to the knees; here they were intercepted by large white bows, frayed and dirty. Gray stockings and boots completed the costume of a clumsy eccentric. On one of his shoes was a spur of applied silver. From a voluminous waistcoat pocket, heavily soiled and adorned with blackened silver galloons, peeped out an unknown instrument, which in this military environment could be mistaken for some mysterious and incomprehensible weapon of war. A high triangular hat, like those worn by parsons thirty years ago, crowned the head of an eccentric and gave a respectable air to the good-natured features of this man.