Duncan released his hold on the arm of the scout,
who turned, and steadily retraced his steps toward
the lodges. After pausing a moment to gaze at
his retiring form, the successful and yet sorrowful
Heyward and Alice took their way together toward the
distant village of the Delawares.
“Bot.—Let
me play the lion too.”
—Midsummer
Night’s Dream
Notwithstanding the high resolution of Hawkeye he
fully comprehended all the difficulties and danger
he was about to incur. In his return to the camp,
his acute and practised intellects were intently engaged
in devising means to counteract a watchfulness and
suspicion on the part of his enemies, that he knew
were, in no degree, inferior to his own. Nothing
but the color of his skin had saved the lives of Magua
and the conjurer, who would have been the first victims
sacrificed to his own security, had not the scout
believed such an act, however congenial it might be
to the nature of an Indian, utterly unworthy of one
who boasted a descent from men that knew no cross
of blood. Accordingly, he trusted to the withes
and ligaments with which he had bound his captives,
and pursued his way directly toward the center of the
lodges. As he approached the buildings, his steps
become more deliberate, and his vigilant eye suffered
no sign, whether friendly or hostile, to escape him.
A neglected hut was a little in advance of the others,
and appeared as if it had been deserted when half
completed—most probably on account of failing
in some of the more important requisites; such as wood
or water. A faint light glimmered through its
cracks, however, and announced that, notwithstanding
its imperfect structure, it was not without a tenant.
Thither, then, the scout proceeded, like a prudent
general, who was about to feel the advanced positions
of his enemy, before he hazarded the main attack.
Throwing himself into a suitable posture for the beast
he represented, Hawkeye crawled to a little opening,
where he might command a view of the interior.
It proved to be the abiding place of David Gamut.
Hither the faithful singing-master had now brought
himself, together with all his sorrows, his apprehensions,
and his meek dependence on the protection of Providence.
At the precise moment when his ungainly person came
under the observation of the scout, in the manner just
mentioned, the woodsman himself, though in his assumed
character, was the subject of the solitary being’s
profounded reflections.
However implicit the faith of David was in the performance
of ancient miracles, he eschewed the belief of any
direct supernatural agency in the management of modern
morality. In other words, while he had implicit
faith in the ability of Balaam’s ass to speak,
he was somewhat skeptical on the subject of a bear’s
singing; and yet he had been assured of the latter,
on the testimony of his own exquisite organs.
