The Last of the Mohicans Read online

  “We have to get you out of here fast,” said Heyward.

  “Not only me,” said Cora. “Uncas.”

  “You know what happened to him then?” Natty asked eagerly.

  “They caught him sneaking into the village last night,” Cora said. “They called him a spy. They tortured him. But he would not say a word. They have him in a hut under guard.”

  “Brave lad,” said Natty. “We must get him out, too.”

  “But how?” Cora asked.

  “I’ll think of some—” Natty began.

  That was as far as he got.

  A whoop of triumph split the air.

  Magua stood pointing at his enemies.

  Behind him stood twenty Hurons. All had rifles primed. Behind him, too, stood Alice. She was pale and trembling.

  Heyward did not know the Huron language. But he knew what Magua had screamed out:

  “Kill them!”

  Chapter 13

  “Stop!” the Delaware chief ordered Magua. He spoke in French. The Hurons did not know the Delaware tongue. “These are our guests. They are safe from harm in our village.”

  Magua looked around him. The Delaware men had raised their rifles.

  “These are foes of the French father,” Magua said. “An English major. And the famous Yankee hunter. La Longue Carabine. His scalp is worth much.”

  A murmur went up. Delawares crowded around Natty to look at him.

  “Still they are guests,” said the chief.

  “If you spare them, the French father will be angry,” said Magua. “He will make war on you. And the Hurons will help him destroy you.”

  The Delaware chief was torn. Was honor worth the risk? “Tamenund must decide,” he announced.

  Another murmur went up. Heyward turned to Natty. “Who is Tamenund?”

  “The oldest of the old. The wisest of the wise,” Natty said. “No one knows how old. But everyone knows how wise.”

  Tamenund was very old. He needed two sticks to walk from his hut. He was shrunken in his rich robes. His face was all wrinkles. But his eyes were clear.

  “Let both sides speak,” he said. His voice cracked with age. “In the tongue they choose. I have learned many tongues. The harsh tongues of tribes that once were enemies. The forked tongues of whites who called themselves friends.”

  Magua stepped boldly forward. “Give me these two lives,” he said in Huron. “The French will give many guns in return. And I will give you a promise. The one that I gave my people. I will take many more English scalps. I will sweep the English away. Make me chief, as the Hurons have, and you will have your own land again.”

  Tamenund nodded. “And now the other side,” he said.

  Natty stepped forward. “White men’s tongues are clumsy,” he said in English. “They cloud the truth. Listen to one of your own people. One who speaks with the voice of truth itself.”

  “Where is he?” Tamenund asked.

  “You hold him captive,” Natty said.

  Tamenund looked at the Delaware chief.

  “We caught a spy last night,” the chief explained. “He would not say a word to us—despite all we could do.”

  “Bring him here,” Tamenund said. “Perhaps he will speak now.”

  Uncas was brought to them. His clothes were torn. His face was bruised. But he walked tall and proud.

  “What is your tongue?” Tamenund asked.

  “The same as yours,” Uncas replied. “The tongue of my fathers. And their fathers—back to the beginning of time.”

  Tamenund’s bent body seemed to straighten. His voice quivered with excitement. “Your voice is like music. What is your name?”

  “Uncas,” the young man answered.

  “Your father?” asked Tamenund.

  “Chingachgook,” Uncas said.

  “Your tribe?” asked Tamenund.

  “The Mohican,” Uncas said.

  “Your proof?” Tamenund demanded.

  Silently Uncas ripped open his shirt. A tattoo gleamed on his bare chest.

  Beside Natty, Cora said, “What is it?”

  “The sacred tortoise,” Natty said. “The ruling totem of the Delaware.”

  Tamenund laid his withered hand on Uncas’s broad shoulder. “I thank the Great Spirit that I live to see this day. I have seen our people lose their greatness. But now I see hope return. I see the noble son of the noblest tribe. A tribe I feared had vanished from the earth. Only a Mohican chief can bring our scattered people together.”

  Magua could not hold himself back. “Old fool!” he shouted. He turned to the Delawares. “Listen to me. I will bring you guns, gold, glory!”

  The Delaware chief leveled his rifle. “Silence, Huron dog. You are a guest. Otherwise you would die.”

  Magua looked around him. He and his men were outnumbered. “I will leave you fools then,” he snarled. “Give me the woman I left with you.”

  “Never!” Uncas spat out.

  Magua turned to Tamenund. “I demand justice from you.”

  “You came with just one woman today,” Tamenund said. “You will leave with just one.”

  Cora stepped forward. “I will be that one,” she declared. “Leave Alice here.”

  “No!” Alice screamed. “I won’t let you!”

  But Magua had already grabbed Cora’s arm. “I knew I would have you in the end. You will be my queen.”

  Uncas started forward. Tamenund’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “You are a great chief. But our law is greater.”

  Chapter 14

  “Dogs, rabbits, thieves—I spit on you!”

  Those were Magua’s parting words. Then he took Cora and led her and his men out of the village.

  Uncas shook free of Tamenund. “Men of the Delaware! Do you take me as your leader?” he demanded.

  The Delawares shouted that they did.

  “Then pick up your rifles and follow me,” Uncas said. “We will show Magua who is the dog, the rabbit, the thief.”

  “Wait for me, Uncas,” said Natty. “I’ll get my deerslayer.”

  “And I my pistol,” Heyward said.

  They ran to where Chingachgook and Munro waited in the forest. Quickly they explained what happened.

  Soon the colonel had joined Alice in the village. Heyward, Chingachgook, and Natty joined Uncas and his warriors.

  Chingachgook watched Uncas at their head. He nodded. “My son has become a chief. As he was born to be.”

  They had to wait until Magua was off Delaware land. Then they were free of the sacred law. They could give chase.

  “A child could follow their trail,” said Uncas. “They are as clumsy as cattle. And they move like snails.” His look was angry. “Cora slows them down.”

  “They’re heading for the hills,” said Natty. “Where there are caves to hide in. And rocks to shield them in a fight.”

  Natty was right. Soon they saw cliffs through breaks in the trees. Then they saw Magua.

  Magua led his band up a hillside trail. He was dragging Cora by the hand.

  That was all Uncas had to see.

  “Wait here,” he told the others. “I will deal with Magua myself.”

  He was off like a flash. He lived up to his name. He ran as swift as a deer.

  “He’s mad,” Heyward muttered.

  “No,” said Natty. “Just too worried about Cora. He fears for her if we all attack.”

  “He is a Mohican,” Chingachgook said. His eyes were sad. But his voice was proud. “He laughs at danger.”

  Minutes passed. They seemed to last forever. Then Uncas came into view. He was on a cliff above Magua.

  Meanwhile Magua had stopped. He was arguing with Cora. It was clear why. She had to move faster. He seized her hand. But she did not move. He raised his knife. She kept her feet planted.

  “He’ll kill her,” Heyward said. He started to run forward. Natty and the others joined him.

  But Magua hesitated. He did not want to kill her—and kill his dream. He still saw her as
his queen.

  A Huron warrior beside him saw her differently. She meant death to them all. His knife flashed.

  Uncas whooped—and leaped. He was too late. The Huron’s knife was buried in Cora. And Magua’s knife plunged into the murderer.

  Uncas landed on his hands and knees. Magua swiftly turned. His knife rose and plunged again.

  Uncas lay beside Cora. They were joined in death.

  Racing forward, Chingachgook gave a terrible shriek. Magua heard it. He started running. His men ran for their lives as well.

  Suddenly Magua stopped. The trail ended. He faced a deep chasm. On the other side lay safety. He crouched. He leaped the gap.

  He almost made it.

  His feet fell inches short. But his hands grabbed the top of the ledge. Slowly he started to pull himself up.

  A shot rang out.

  Magua shuddered. His hands let go. His body fell to the rocks far below. There it lay lifeless.

  Natty stood with his long rifle smoking. But he felt no joy. Around him the battle was over. Many Hurons lay dead. The rest had fled. There was nothing left to do except carry Cora and Uncas back to the village.

  That evening Cora and Uncas lay side by side again—in the sacred burying ground of the Delaware.

  “It is fitting,” Chingachgook said, gazing at their graves. “The woman had the heart of a Mohican. She was worthy of the heart of my son.”

  “Will you now lead the Delaware?” asked Heyward.

  Chingachgook shook his head. “Uncas was like the rising sun. He could have led his people to a new day. But my sun is setting. I will go to the land of the setting sun. Long ago the Mohicans came from there. And there the sun still shines on my race. May it do so until my days are done.”

  “And I’ll go with you,” said Natty. “I see too many farms here. Too many fences. Too many roads. Too many towns. My parents came from England. But I am a son of the wilderness. I need freedom as I need air to breathe.”

  “I only want to go back to England,” Alice said. “Cora was made for this new land. But I am not.”

  “I’ll join you there,” said Heyward. “After I help your father to win this war. I don’t belong here either. England may claim this place. But the people here are not English. I am not sure what they are. Or how long the British flag will fly over them.”

  Heyward looked at Natty standing tall. He looked at the long rifle in Natty’s hand. “I hope I do not have to fight for that flag again in these colonies,” he said.

  Then they fell silent. The Delawares around them fell silent, too. Tamenund was saying final words over the graves of Cora and Uncas.

  “The palefaces are masters of the earth. The time of the red men has not yet come again. My day has been too long. In the morning I saw the sons of the tortoise happy and strong. Yet before the night has come, I have lived to see the last warrior of the wise race of the Mohicans.”

  Historical Note

  The British finally did defeat the French. At the end of 1759 the British army captured Quebec in Canada. The French general Montcalm died in that battle. With this victory the British won the war. The peace treaty gave them Canada.

  In 1775, however, the thirteen colonies below Canada rebelled against British rule. The war that followed, the American Revolution, lasted until 1783. It ended in British defeat—and in the birth of the United States of America.

  Les Martin is the author and adapter of many books for children, including two other Stepping Stones Classics, The Time Machine and Oliver Twist. An avid tennis player, Les Martin lives in New York City.

  Shannon Stirnweis is a painter and illustrator with dozens of books to his credit. He likes to paint wilderness scenes, so he especially enjoyed working on The Last of the Mohicans. Born in Oregon, Shannon Stirnweis now lives in Wilton, Connecticut, with his wife and son.