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Updated: June 2, 2025
"And this?" continued the Indian, who had turned his naked back to the other, his body being without its usual calico mantle. "This! my son has been sadly injured here; who has done this?" "Magua slept hard in the English wigwams, and the sticks have left their mark," returned the savage, with a hollow laugh, which did not conceal the fierce temper that nearly choked him.
During the short and frugal repast that followed, the conversation was extremely circumspect, and related entirely to the events of the hunt in which Magua had so lately been engaged.
"What say you, men, shall we cast the lot to see who takes the scalp of Magua, the great chief of the Hurons?" It was done. The short stick was drawn by Little Tim to his inexpressible joy. "Take the scalping-knife, brave scout," said Henry Burns, handing him a huge wooden affair, whittled out for the purpose.
Starting to his feet, he turned, and, confronting the intruder, his looks fell on the dark form and malignant visage of Magua. The deep guttural laugh of the savage sounded, at such a moment, to Duncan, like the hellish taunt of a demon.
Though his words were unheeded, or rather unheard, his example was followed by his companions, who, by incredible exertions, got near enough to the fugitives to perceive that Cora was borne along between the two warriors while Magua prescribed the direction and manner of their flight. At this moment the forms of all four were strongly drawn against an opening in the sky, and they disappeared.
"Did my brother beat out the dogs?" asked Magua, without adverting in any manner to the former equivocation of the chief. "It would not do. The stranger is always welcome to the children of the Lenape." "The stranger, but not the spy." "Would the Yengeese send their women as spies? Did not the Huron chief say he took women in the battle?" "He told no lie. The Yengeese have sent out their scouts.
"Listen," said the Indian, laying his hand firmly upon her arm, as if willing to draw her utmost attention to his words; a movement that Cora as firmly but quietly repulsed, by extricating the limb from his grasp: "Magua was born a chief and a warrior among the red Hurons of the lakes; he saw the suns of twenty summers make the snows of twenty winters run off in the streams before he saw a pale face; and he was happy!
But who has ever found a Huron asleep?" The darkness of the impending cloud which precedes a burst of thunder was not blacker than the brow of Magua as he exclaimed, "The Delawares of the Lakes!" "Not so. They who wear the petticoats of squaws, on their own river. One of them has been passing the tribe." "Did my young men take his scalp?"
"He will make the fire-water from the islands in the salt lake flow before the wigwam of Magua, until the heart of the Indian shall be lighter than the feathers of the humming-bird, and his breath sweeter than the wild honeysuckle." Le Renard had listened gravely as Heyward slowly proceeded in this subtle speech.
When Magua reached the cluster of lolling savages, who, gorged with their disgusting meal, lay stretched on the earth in brutal indulgence, he commenced speaking with the dignity of an Indian chief. The first syllables he uttered had the effect to cause his listeners to raise themselves in attitudes of respectful attention.
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