His keen eye took a single look at the victims, and
then shot its glances over the difficulties of the
ascent in his front. A form stood at the brow
of the mountain, on the very edge of the giddy height,
with uplifted arms, in an awful attitude of menace.
Without stopping to consider his person, the rifle
of Hawkeye was raised; but a rock, which fell on the
head of one of the fugitives below, exposed the indignant
and glowing countenance of the honest Gamut. Then
Magua issued from a crevice, and, stepping with calm
indifference over the body of the last of his associates,
he leaped a wide fissure, and ascended the rocks at
a point where the arm of David could not reach him.
A single bound would carry him to the brow of the
precipice, and assure his safety. Before taking
the leap, however, the Huron paused, and shaking his
hand at the scout, he shouted:
“The pale faces are dogs! the Delawares women!
Magua leaves them on the rocks, for the crows!”
Laughing hoarsely, he made a desperate leap, and fell
short of his mark, though his hands grasped a shrub
on the verge of the height. The form of Hawkeye
had crouched like a beast about to take its spring,
and his frame trembled so violently with eagerness
that the muzzle of the half-raised rifle played like
a leaf fluttering in the wind. Without exhausting
himself with fruitless efforts, the cunning Magua suffered
his body to drop to the length of his arms, and found
a fragment for his feet to rest on. Then, summoning
all his powers, he renewed the attempt, and so far
succeeded as to draw his knees on the edge of the mountain.
It was now, when the body of his enemy was most collected
together, that the agitated weapon of the scout was
drawn to his shoulder. The surrounding rocks
themselves were not steadier than the piece became,
for the single instant that it poured out its contents.
The arms of the Huron relaxed, and his body fell back
a little, while his knees still kept their position.
Turning a relentless look on his enemy, he shook a
hand in grim defiance. But his hold loosened,
and his dark person was seen cutting the air with
its head downward, for a fleeting instant, until it
glided past the fringe of shrubbery which clung to
the mountain, in its rapid flight to destruction.
“They fought,
like brave men, long and well,
They piled that ground
with Moslem slain,
They conquered—but
Bozzaris fell,
Bleeding at every vein.
His few surviving comrades
saw
His smile when rang
their loud hurrah,
And the red field was
won;
Then saw in death his
eyelids close
Calmly, as to a night’s
repose,
Like flowers at set
of sun.”
—Halleck.
