But all this diligence and speed were not without
an object. After crossing a low vale, through
which a gushing brook meandered, he suddenly ascended
a hill, so steep and difficult of ascent, that the
sisters were compelled to alight in order to follow.
When the summit was gained, they found themselves
on a level spot, but thinly covered with trees, under
one of which Magua had thrown his dark form, as if
willing and ready to seek that rest which was so much
needed by the whole party.
“Cursed be my
tribe If I forgive him.”
—Shylock
The Indian had selected for this desirable purpose
one of those steep, pyramidal hills, which bear a
strong resemblance to artificial mounds, and which
so frequently occur in the valleys of America.
The one in question was high and precipitous; its
top flattened, as usual; but with one of its sides
more than ordinarily irregular. It possessed no
other apparent advantage for a resting place, than
in its elevation and form, which might render defense
easy, and surprise nearly impossible. As Heyward,
however, no longer expected that rescue which time
and distance now rendered so improbable, he regarded
these little peculiarities with an eye devoid of interest,
devoting himself entirely to the comfort and condolence
of his feebler companions. The Narragansetts were
suffered to browse on the branches of the trees and
shrubs that were thinly scattered over the summit
of the hill, while the remains of their provisions
were spread under the shade of a beech, that stretched
its horizontal limbs like a canopy above them.
Notwithstanding the swiftness of their flight, one
of the Indians had found an opportunity to strike
a straggling fawn with an arrow, and had borne the
more preferable fragments of the victim, patiently
on his shoulders, to the stopping place. Without
any aid from the science of cookery, he was immediately
employed, in common with his fellows, in gorging himself
with this digestible sustenance. Magua alone sat
apart, without participating in the revolting meal,
and apparently buried in the deepest thought.
This abstinence, so remarkable in an Indian, when
he possessed the means of satisfying hunger, at length
attracted the notice of Heyward. The young man
willingly believed that the Huron deliberated on the
most eligible manner of eluding the vigilance of his
associates. With a view to assist his plans by
any suggestion of his own, and to strengthen the temptation,
he left the beech, and straggled, as if without an
object, to the spot where Le Renard was seated.
“Has not Magua kept the sun in his face long
enough to escape all danger from the Canadians?”
he asked, as though no longer doubtful of the good
intelligence established between them; “and will
not the chief of William Henry be better pleased to
see his daughters before another night may have hardened
his heart to their loss, to make him less liberal
in his reward?”
