James Fenimore Cooper
The Last of the Mohicans
I'm ready to find out the worst
And the terrible thing you could bring to me,
Ready to hear the painful news
Answer quickly - did the kingdom perish?!
Perhaps, along the entire vast stretch of the border that separated the possessions of the French from the territory of the English colonies of North America, there are no more eloquent monuments of the cruel and ferocious wars of 1755-1763 than in the region lying at the source of the Hudson and near the lakes adjacent to them. This area provided such convenience for the movement of troops that they could not be neglected.
The water surface of Champlain stretched from Canada and jutted deep into the colony of New York; as a result, Lake Champlain served as the most convenient route of communication, along which the French could sail up to half the distance separating them from the enemy.
Near the southern edge of Lake Champlain, the crystal clear waters of Lake Horiken - the Holy Lake - merge with it.
The Holy Lake meanders between countless islets and is surrounded by low coastal mountains. It stretches in curves far to the south, where it abuts the plateau. From this point began a multi-mile portage that led the traveler to the banks of the Hudson; here sailing along the river became comfortable, since the current was free of rapids.
In carrying out their warlike plans, the French tried to penetrate the most remote and inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains and drew attention to the natural advantages of the region we have just described. Indeed, it soon turned into a bloody arena of numerous battles, with which the warring parties hoped to resolve the issue regarding the possession of the colonies.
Here, in the most important places, towering above the surrounding routes, fortresses grew; they were taken over by one or the other warring side; they were either torn down or rebuilt again, depending on whose banner was flying over the fortress.
While peaceful farmers tried to stay away from dangerous mountain gorges, hiding in ancient settlements, numerous military forces delved into virgin forests. Few returned from there, exhausted by hardships and hardships, discouraged by failures.
Although this troubled region did not know peaceful crafts, its forests were often enlivened by the presence of man.
Under the canopy of branches and in the valleys the sounds of marches were heard, and the echo in the mountains repeated the laughter and cries of many, many carefree young braves who, in the prime of their strength, hastened here to plunge into the deep sleep of the long night of oblivion.
It was in this arena of bloody wars that the events that we will try to tell about unfolded. Our story dates back to the third year of the war between France and England, who were fighting for power over a country that neither side was destined to keep in their hands.
The stupidity of military leaders abroad and the disastrous inactivity of advisers at court deprived Great Britain of that proud prestige which had been won for her by the talent and courage of her former soldiers and statesmen. The English forces were defeated by a handful of French and Indians; this unexpected defeat left most of the border unguarded. And after real disasters, many imaginary, imaginary dangers arose. In every gust of wind coming from the endless forests, the frightened settlers imagined wild screams and the ominous howl of the Indians.
Under the influence of fear, the danger assumed unprecedented proportions; common sense could not fight the alarmed imagination. Even the most courageous, self-confident, and energetic began to doubt the favorable outcome of the struggle. The number of cowardly and cowardly people increased incredibly; It seemed to them that in the near future all the American possessions of England would become the property of the French or would be devastated by Indian tribes - allies of France.
That is why, when news came to the English fortress, rising in the southern part of the plateau between the Hudson and the lakes, about the appearance of the Marquis of Montcalm near Champlain and idle chatterers added that this general was moving with a detachment “in which there are soldiers like leaves in the forest,” it was terrible the message was received rather with cowardly resignation than with the stern satisfaction that should have been felt by a warrior who discovered an enemy close to him. News of Montcalm's landing at midsummer; The Indian brought it at an hour when the day was already approaching evening. Along with the terrible news, the messenger conveyed to the camp commander a request from Munro, the commandant of one of the forts on the shores of the Holy Lake, to immediately send him strong reinforcements. The distance between the fort and the fortress, which a forest dweller walked within two hours, could be covered by a military detachment with its convoy between sunrise and sunset. Loyal supporters of the English crown named one of these fortifications Fort William Henry, and the other Fort Edward, named after the princes of the royal family. The veteran Scot Munro commanded Fort William Henry.
It contained one of the regular regiments and a small detachment of volunteer colonists; it was a garrison too small to fight Montcalm's advancing forces.
The post of commandant in the second fortress was held by General Webb; under his command was a royal army of over five thousand people. If Webb had united all his scattered troops, he could have brought twice as many soldiers against the enemy as the enterprising Frenchman had, who ventured so far from his replenishment with an army not much larger than the English.
However, frightened by failures, the English generals and their subordinates preferred to wait in their fortress for the approach of a formidable enemy, without risking going out to meet Montcalm in order to surpass the successful performance of the French at the Desquesnes fort, give battle to the enemy and stop him.
When the first excitement caused by the terrible news subsided, in the camp, protected by trenches and located on the banks of the Hudson in the form of a chain of fortifications that covered the fort itself, there was a rumor that a selected detachment of one and a half thousand should move from the fortress to Fort William Henry at dawn. This rumor was soon confirmed; We learned that several detachments had received orders to quickly prepare for the campaign.
All doubts about Webb's intentions were dispelled, and for two or three hours hurried running and anxious faces were heard in the camp. The recruit anxiously scurried back and forth, fussed and with his excessive zeal only slowed down his preparations for the performance; the experienced veteran armed himself quite calmly, unhurriedly, although the stern features and worried look clearly indicated that the terrible struggle in the forests did not particularly please his heart.
Perhaps, along the entire vast stretch of the border that separated the possessions of the French from the territory of the English colonies of North America, there are no more eloquent monuments of the cruel and ferocious wars of 1755-1763 than in the region lying at the source of the Hudson and near the lakes adjacent to them. This area provided such convenience for the movement of troops that they could not be neglected.
The water surface of Champlain stretched from Canada and jutted deep into the colony of New York; as a result, Lake Champlain served as the most convenient route of communication, along which the French could sail up to half the distance separating them from the enemy.
Near the southern edge of Lake Champlain, the crystal clear waters of Horikan, the Holy Lake, merge with it.
The Holy Lake meanders between countless islets and is surrounded by low coastal mountains. It stretches in curves far to the south, where it abuts the plateau. From this point began a multi-mile portage that led the traveler to the banks of the Hudson; here sailing along the river became comfortable, since the current was free of rapids.
In carrying out their warlike plans, the French tried to penetrate the most remote and inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains and drew attention to the natural advantages of the region we have just described. Indeed, it soon turned into a bloody arena of numerous battles, with which the warring parties hoped to resolve the issue of ownership of the colonies.
Here, in the most important places, towering above the surrounding routes, fortresses grew; they were taken over by one or the other warring side; they were either torn down or rebuilt again, depending on whose banner was flying over the fortress.
While peaceful farmers tried to stay away from dangerous mountain gorges, hiding in ancient settlements, numerous military forces delved into virgin forests. Few returned from there, exhausted by hardships and hardships, discouraged by failures.
Although this troubled region did not know peaceful crafts, its forests were often enlivened by the presence of man.
Under the canopy of branches and in the valleys the sounds of marches were heard, and the echo in the mountains repeated the laughter and cries of many, many carefree young braves who, in the prime of life, hastened here to plunge into the deep sleep of the long night of oblivion.
It was in this arena of bloody wars that the events that we will try to tell about unfolded. Our story dates back to the third year of the war between France and England, who were fighting for power over a country that neither side was destined to keep in their hands.
The stupidity of the military leaders abroad and the disastrous inactivity of the advisers at court deprived Great Britain of that proud prestige which had been won for her by the talent and courage of her former soldiers and statesmen. The English forces were defeated by a handful of French and Indians; this unexpected defeat left most of the border unguarded. And after real disasters, many imaginary, imaginary dangers arose. In every gust of wind coming from the endless forests, the frightened settlers imagined wild screams and the ominous howl of the Indians.
Under the influence of fear, the danger assumed unprecedented proportions; common sense could not fight the alarmed imagination. Even the most courageous, self-confident, and energetic began to doubt the favorable outcome of the struggle. The number of cowardly and cowardly people increased incredibly; It seemed to them that in the near future all the American possessions of England would become the property of the French or would be devastated by Indian tribes - allies of France.
That is why, when news came to the English fortress, rising in the southern part of the plateau between the Hudson and the lakes, about the appearance of the Marquis of Montcalm near Champlain and idle chatterers added that this general was moving with a detachment “in which there are soldiers like leaves in the forest,” it was terrible the message was received rather with cowardly resignation than with the stern satisfaction that should have been felt by a warrior who discovered an enemy close to him. The news of Montcalm's attack came in the height of summer; The Indian brought it at an hour when the day was already approaching evening. Along with the terrible news, the messenger conveyed to the camp commander a request from Munro, the commandant of one of the forts on the shores of the Holy Lake, to immediately send him strong reinforcements. The distance between the fort and the fortress, which a forest dweller walked within two hours, could be covered by a military detachment with its convoy between sunrise and sunset. Loyal supporters of the English crown named one of these fortifications Fort William Henry, and the other Fort Edward, named after the princes of the royal family. The veteran Scot Munro commanded Fort William Henry. It contained one of the regular regiments and a small detachment of volunteer colonists; it was a garrison too small to fight Montcalm's advancing forces.
The post of commandant in the second fortress was held by General Webb; under his command was a royal army of over five thousand people. If Webb had united all his scattered troops, he could have brought twice as many soldiers against the enemy as the enterprising Frenchman had, who ventured so far from his replenishment with an army not much larger than the English.
However, frightened by failures, the English generals and their subordinates preferred to wait in their fortress for the approach of a formidable enemy, without risking going out to meet Montcalm in order to surpass the successful performance of the French at the Duquesne Fort, give battle to the enemy and stop him.
When the first excitement caused by the terrible news subsided, in the camp, protected by trenches and located on the banks of the Hudson in the form of a chain of fortifications that covered the fort itself, there was a rumor that a selected detachment of one and a half thousand should move from the fortress to Fort William Henry at dawn. This rumor was soon confirmed; We learned that several detachments had received orders to quickly prepare for the campaign. All doubts about Webb's intentions were dispelled, and for two or three hours hurried running and anxious faces were heard in the camp. The recruit anxiously scurried back and forth, fussed and with his excessive zeal only slowed down his preparations for the performance; the experienced veteran armed himself quite calmly, unhurriedly, although the stern features and worried look clearly indicated that the terrible struggle in the forests did not particularly please his heart.
Finally the sun disappeared in a stream of radiance in the west behind the mountains, and when night enveloped this secluded place with its cloak, the noise and bustle of preparations for the campaign fell silent; the last light went out in the officers' log cabins; the thickening shadows of the trees lay on the earthen ramparts and the babbling stream, and in a few minutes the entire camp was plunged into the same silence that reigned in the neighboring dense forests.
According to the order given the previous evening, the deep sleep of the soldiers was disturbed by a deafening roar of drums, and the booming echo carried far in the damp morning air, echoing loudly in every corner of the forest; The day was dawning, the cloudless sky was brightening in the east, and the outlines of tall, shaggy pines appeared on it more and more clearly and sharply. A minute later life began to boil in the camp; even the most careless soldier rose to his feet to see the performance of the detachment and, together with his comrades, to experience the excitement of this moment. The simple training of the marching detachment soon ended. The soldiers lined up in combat units. The royal mercenaries flanked the right flank; more modest volunteers, from among the settlers, obediently took places on the left.
James Fenimore Cooper
The Last of the Mohicans
I'm ready to find out the worst
And the terrible thing you could bring to me,
Ready to hear the painful news
Answer quickly - did the kingdom perish?!
Shakespeare 
Perhaps, along the entire vast stretch of the border that separated the possessions of the French from the territory of the English colonies of North America, there are no more eloquent monuments of the cruel and ferocious wars of 1755-1763 than in the region lying at the source of the Hudson and near the lakes adjacent to them. This area provided such convenience for the movement of troops that they could not be neglected.
The water surface of Champlain stretched from Canada and jutted deep into the colony of New York; as a result, Lake Champlain served as the most convenient route of communication, along which the French could sail up to half the distance separating them from the enemy.
Near the southern edge of Lake Champlain, the crystal clear waters of Lake Horiken - the Holy Lake - merge with it.
The Holy Lake meanders between countless islets and is surrounded by low coastal mountains. It stretches in curves far to the south, where it abuts the plateau. From this point began a multi-mile portage that led the traveler to the banks of the Hudson; here sailing along the river became comfortable, since the current was free of rapids.
In carrying out their warlike plans, the French tried to penetrate the most remote and inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains and drew attention to the natural advantages of the region we have just described. Indeed, it soon turned into a bloody arena of numerous battles, with which the warring parties hoped to resolve the issue regarding the possession of the colonies.
Here, in the most important places, towering above the surrounding routes, fortresses grew; they were taken over by one or the other warring side; they were either torn down or rebuilt again, depending on whose banner was flying over the fortress.
While peaceful farmers tried to stay away from dangerous mountain gorges, hiding in ancient settlements, numerous military forces delved into virgin forests. Few returned from there, exhausted by hardships and hardships, discouraged by failures.
Although this troubled region did not know peaceful crafts, its forests were often enlivened by the presence of man.
Under the canopy of branches and in the valleys the sounds of marches were heard, and the echo in the mountains repeated the laughter and cries of many, many carefree young braves who, in the prime of their strength, hastened here to plunge into the deep sleep of the long night of oblivion.
It was in this arena of bloody wars that the events that we will try to tell about unfolded. Our story dates back to the third year of the war between France and England, who were fighting for power over a country that neither side was destined to keep in their hands.
The stupidity of military leaders abroad and the disastrous inactivity of advisers at court deprived Great Britain of that proud prestige which had been won for her by the talent and courage of her former soldiers and statesmen. The English forces were defeated by a handful of French and Indians; this unexpected defeat left most of the border unguarded. And after real disasters, many imaginary, imaginary dangers arose. In every gust of wind coming from the endless forests, the frightened settlers imagined wild screams and the ominous howl of the Indians.
Under the influence of fear, the danger assumed unprecedented proportions; common sense could not fight the alarmed imagination. Even the most courageous, self-confident, and energetic began to doubt the favorable outcome of the struggle. The number of cowardly and cowardly people increased incredibly; It seemed to them that in the near future all the American possessions of England would become the property of the French or would be devastated by Indian tribes - allies of France.
That is why, when news came to the English fortress, rising in the southern part of the plateau between the Hudson and the lakes, about the appearance of the Marquis of Montcalm near Champlain and idle chatterers added that this general was moving with a detachment “in which there are soldiers like leaves in the forest,” it was terrible the message was received rather with cowardly resignation than with the stern satisfaction that should have been felt by a warrior who discovered an enemy close to him. News of Montcalm's landing at midsummer; The Indian brought it at an hour when the day was already approaching evening. Along with the terrible news, the messenger conveyed to the camp commander a request from Munro, the commandant of one of the forts on the shores of the Holy Lake, to immediately send him strong reinforcements. The distance between the fort and the fortress, which a forest dweller walked within two hours, could be covered by a military detachment with its convoy between sunrise and sunset. Loyal supporters of the English crown named one of these fortifications Fort William Henry, and the other Fort Edward, named after the princes of the royal family. The veteran Scot Munro commanded Fort William Henry.
It contained one of the regular regiments and a small detachment of volunteer colonists; it was a garrison too small to fight Montcalm's advancing forces.
The post of commandant in the second fortress was held by General Webb; under his command was a royal army of over five thousand people. If Webb had united all his scattered troops, he could have brought twice as many soldiers against the enemy as the enterprising Frenchman had, who ventured so far from his replenishment with an army not much larger than the English.
However, frightened by failures, the English generals and their subordinates preferred to wait in their fortress for the approach of a formidable enemy, without risking going out to meet Montcalm in order to surpass the successful performance of the French at the Desquesnes fort, give battle to the enemy and stop him.
When the first excitement caused by the terrible news subsided, in the camp, protected by trenches and located on the banks of the Hudson in the form of a chain of fortifications that covered the fort itself, there was a rumor that a selected detachment of one and a half thousand should move from the fortress to Fort William Henry at dawn. This rumor was soon confirmed; We learned that several detachments had received orders to quickly prepare for the campaign.
All doubts about Webb's intentions were dispelled, and for two or three hours hurried running and anxious faces were heard in the camp. The recruit anxiously scurried back and forth, fussed and with his excessive zeal only slowed down his preparations for the performance; the experienced veteran armed himself quite calmly, unhurriedly, although the stern features and worried look clearly indicated that the terrible struggle in the forests did not particularly please his heart.
Chapter I
I'm ready to find out the worst
And the terrible thing you could bring to me,
Ready to hear the painful news.
Answer quickly - has the kingdom perished?!
Perhaps, along the entire vast stretch of the border that separated the possessions of the French from the territory of the English colonies of North America, there are no more eloquent monuments of the cruel and ferocious wars of 1755-1763 than in the region lying at the source of the Hudson and near the lakes adjacent to them. This area provided such convenience for the movement of troops that they could not be neglected.
The water surface of Champlain stretched from Canada and jutted deep into the colony of New York; as a result, Lake Champlain served as the most convenient route of communication, along which the French could sail up to half the distance separating them from the enemy.
Near the southern edge of Lake Champlain, the crystal clear waters of Horikan, the Holy Lake, merge with it.
The Holy Lake meanders between countless islets and is surrounded by low coastal mountains. It stretches in curves far to the south, where it abuts the plateau. From this point began a multi-mile portage that led the traveler to the banks of the Hudson; here sailing along the river became comfortable, since the current was free of rapids.
In carrying out their warlike plans, the French tried to penetrate the most remote and inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains and drew attention to the natural advantages of the region we have just described. Indeed, it soon turned into a bloody arena of numerous battles, with which the warring parties hoped to resolve the issue of ownership of the colonies.
Here, in the most important places, towering above the surrounding routes, fortresses grew; they were taken over by one or the other warring side; they were either torn down or rebuilt again, depending on whose banner was flying over the fortress.
While peaceful farmers tried to stay away from dangerous mountain gorges, hiding in ancient settlements, numerous military forces delved into virgin forests. Few returned from there, exhausted by hardships and hardships, discouraged by failures.
Although this troubled region did not know peaceful crafts, its forests were often enlivened by the presence of man.
Under the canopy of branches and in the valleys the sounds of marches were heard, and the echo in the mountains repeated the laughter and cries of many, many carefree young braves who, in the prime of life, hastened here to plunge into the deep sleep of the long night of oblivion.
It was in this arena of bloody wars that the events that we will try to tell about unfolded. Our story dates back to the third year of the war between France and England, who were fighting for power over a country that neither side was destined to keep in their hands.
The stupidity of the military leaders abroad and the disastrous inactivity of the advisers at court deprived Great Britain of that proud prestige which had been won for her by the talent and courage of her former soldiers and statesmen. The English forces were defeated by a handful of French and Indians; this unexpected defeat left most of the border unguarded. And after real disasters, many imaginary, imaginary dangers arose. In every gust of wind coming from the endless forests, the frightened settlers imagined wild screams and the ominous howl of the Indians.
Under the influence of fear, the danger assumed unprecedented proportions; common sense could not fight the alarmed imagination. Even the most courageous, self-confident, and energetic began to doubt the favorable outcome of the struggle. The number of cowardly and cowardly people increased incredibly; It seemed to them that in the near future all the American possessions of England would become the property of the French or would be devastated by Indian tribes - allies of France.
That is why, when news came to the English fortress, rising in the southern part of the plateau between the Hudson and the lakes, about the appearance of the Marquis of Montcalm near Champlain and idle chatterers added that this general was moving with a detachment “in which there are soldiers like leaves in the forest,” it was terrible the message was received rather with cowardly resignation than with the stern satisfaction that should have been felt by a warrior who discovered an enemy close to him. The news of Montcalm's attack came in the height of summer; The Indian brought it at an hour when the day was already approaching evening. Along with the terrible news, the messenger conveyed to the camp commander a request from Munro, the commandant of one of the forts on the shores of the Holy Lake, to immediately send him strong reinforcements. The distance between the fort and the fortress, which a forest dweller walked within two hours, could be covered by a military detachment with its convoy between sunrise and sunset. Loyal supporters of the English crown named one of these fortifications Fort William Henry, and the other Fort Edward, named after the princes of the royal family. The veteran Scot Munro commanded Fort William Henry. It contained one of the regular regiments and a small detachment of volunteer colonists; it was a garrison too small to fight Montcalm's advancing forces.
The post of commandant in the second fortress was held by General Webb; under his command was a royal army of over five thousand people. If Webb had united all his scattered troops, he could have brought twice as many soldiers against the enemy as the enterprising Frenchman had, who ventured so far from his replenishment with an army not much larger than the English.
However, frightened by failures, the English generals and their subordinates preferred to wait in their fortress for the approach of a formidable enemy, without risking going out to meet Montcalm in order to surpass the successful performance of the French at the Duquesne Fort, give battle to the enemy and stop him.
When the first excitement caused by the terrible news subsided, in the camp, protected by trenches and located on the banks of the Hudson in the form of a chain of fortifications that covered the fort itself, there was a rumor that a selected detachment of one and a half thousand should move from the fortress to Fort William Henry at dawn. This rumor was soon confirmed; We learned that several detachments had received orders to quickly prepare for the campaign. All doubts about Webb's intentions were dispelled, and for two or three hours hurried running and anxious faces were heard in the camp. The recruit anxiously scurried back and forth, fussed and with his excessive zeal only slowed down his preparations for the performance; the experienced veteran armed himself quite calmly, unhurriedly, although the stern features and worried look clearly indicated that the terrible struggle in the forests did not particularly please his heart.
Finally the sun disappeared in a stream of radiance in the west behind the mountains, and when night enveloped this secluded place with its cloak, the noise and bustle of preparations for the campaign fell silent; the last light went out in the officers' log cabins; the thickening shadows of the trees lay on the earthen ramparts and the babbling stream, and in a few minutes the entire camp was plunged into the same silence that reigned in the neighboring dense forests.
According to the order given the previous evening, the deep sleep of the soldiers was disturbed by a deafening roar of drums, and the booming echo carried far in the damp morning air, echoing loudly in every corner of the forest; The day was dawning, the cloudless sky was brightening in the east, and the outlines of tall, shaggy pines appeared on it more and more clearly and sharply. A minute later life began to boil in the camp; even the most careless soldier rose to his feet to see the performance of the detachment and, together with his comrades, to experience the excitement of this moment. The simple training of the marching detachment soon ended. The soldiers lined up in combat units. The royal mercenaries flanked the right flank; more modest volunteers, from among the settlers, obediently took places on the left.
The scouts came out. A strong convoy escorted the wagons with their marching equipment, and before the first rays of sun pierced the gray morning, the column set off. Leaving the camp, the column had a formidable, warlike appearance; this appearance was supposed to drown out the vague fears of many recruits who had to withstand the first tests in battle. The soldiers walked past their admiring comrades with a proud and warlike expression. But gradually the sounds of military music began to fade in the distance and finally froze completely. The forest closed in, hiding the squad from view. Now the wind did not carry even the loudest, piercing sounds to those remaining in the camp, the last warrior disappeared into the thicket of the forest.
However, judging by what was happening in front of the largest and most comfortable of the officers' barracks, someone else was preparing to set off. In front of Webb's house stood several beautifully saddled horses; two of them were apparently intended for women of high rank, who were not often found in these forests. The third had officer's pistols in the saddle. The rest of the horses, judging by the simplicity of the bridles and saddles and the packs tied to them, belonged to the lower ranks. Indeed, the rank and file, completely ready to leave, were obviously only waiting for the commander’s order to jump into their saddles. Groups of idle spectators stood at a respectful distance: some of them admired the pure breed of the officer's horse, others watched with dull curiosity the preparations for departure.
However, among the spectators there was one person whose manners and posture set him apart from the rest. His figure was not ugly, but at the same time it seemed extremely awkward. When this man stood, he was taller than other people, but when sitting, he seemed no larger than his brothers. His head was too large, his shoulders too narrow, his arms long and clumsy, with small, graceful hands. The thinness of his unusually long legs reached the extreme, his knees were prohibitively thick. The strange, even absurd costume of the eccentric emphasized the absurdity of his figure. The low collar of his sky-blue camisole did not cover his long, thin neck at all; the short skirts of his caftan allowed mockers to make fun of his thin, long legs. Yellow narrow nankeen trousers reached to the knees, here they were intercepted by large white bows, frayed and dirty. Gray stockings and boots completed the costume of the awkward figure. On one of the eccentric’s shoes was a spur made of false silver. From the voluminous pocket of his vest, heavily soiled and decorated with blackened silver braid, looked out an unknown instrument, which, among this military environment, could be mistaken for some mysterious and incomprehensible weapon of war. A tall triangular hat, like those worn by pastors thirty years ago, crowned the head of the eccentric and gave a respectable appearance to the good-natured features of this man.
A group of privates kept a respectful distance from Webb's house; but the figure we have just described boldly intervened in the crowd of the general’s servants. The strange man examined the horses without embarrassment, praising some and scolding others.
“This horse is not homegrown, he was probably discharged from abroad... maybe even from an island that lies far, far away, beyond the blue seas,” he said in a voice that amazed with its euphonious softness, just as everything surprised him figure with its unusual proportions. – I will say without boasting: I can confidently talk about such things. I have visited both harbors: the one located at the mouth of the Thames and called after the capital of old England, and the one simply called New Haven - New Harbor. I saw how brigantines and barges collected animals as if for an ark, and sent them to the island of Jamaica; there these four-legged animals were sold or exchanged. But I have never seen such a horse. How does the Bible say this? “He impatiently digs the soil of the valley with his hooves and rejoices in his strength; he rushes towards the warriors. Among the sounds of trumpets, he exclaims: “Ha, ha!” He smells the battle from afar and hears the war cry.” This is ancient blood, isn't it, friend?
Having received no answer to his so unusual appeal, which was expressed with such completeness and power of a sonorous voice that it deserved some attention, he turned to the silently standing man, his involuntary listener, and a new, even more admirable object appeared before the gaze of the eccentric. He was surprised to fix his gaze on the motionless, straight and slender figure of the Indian runner, who brought gloomy news to the camp.
Although the Indian stood as if made of stone and seemed not to pay the slightest attention to the noise and animation reigning around, the features of his calm face at the same time expressed a sullen ferocity, which would certainly have attracted the attention of a more experienced observer than the one who looked at him now with undisguised surprise. The Indian was armed with a tomahawk and a knife, and yet he did not look like a real warrior. On the contrary, his whole appearance was permeated by carelessness, which perhaps stemmed from some great recent stress from which he had not yet recovered. On the stern face of the native, the military coloring blurred, and this made his dark features involuntarily look even more wild and repulsive than in the skillful patterns created to intimidate his enemies. Only his eyes, sparkling like bright stars between the clouds, burned with wild malice. Only for one moment the gaze of the walker caught the surprised expression in the eyes of the observer and immediately, partly out of cunning, partly out of disdain, turned in the other direction, somewhere far, far away in space.
Suddenly the servants began to fuss, gentle women's voices were heard, and all this announced the approach of those who were expected so that the entire cavalcade would set off. The man, who had been admiring the officer's horse, suddenly retreated to his own short, thin horse with a tied tail, which was nibbling dry grass; He leaned one elbow on the woolen blanket that served as a saddle and began to watch the departing people. At this time, a foal approached his nag from the opposite side and began to feast on her milk.
A young man in an officer's uniform led two girls to the horses, who, judging by their costumes, were preparing for a tiring journey through the forests.
Suddenly the wind threw back a long green veil attached to the hat of the one who seemed to be the youngest (although they were both very young); from under the veil a dazzling white face, golden hair, and sparkling blue eyes appeared. The delicate colors of the sky, still spilling over the pine trees, were not as bright and beautiful as the blush of her cheeks; the beginning of the day was not as bright as her animated smile, which she rewarded the young man who was helping her to sit in the saddle.
The officer treated the second rider with the same attention, whose face was carefully hidden by a veil. She seemed older than her sister and was a little plumper.
As soon as the girls mounted the horses, the young man easily jumped into the saddle. All three bowed to General Webb, who came out onto the porch to see off the travelers, turned their horses and moved at a light trot to the northern exit of the camp. Several lower ranks followed them. While the departing riders crossed the space that separated them from the main road, none of them said a word, only the youngest of the horsewomen screamed slightly when an Indian speedster suddenly slipped past her and moved with a quick, light tread along the military road. The eldest of the sisters did not utter a sound when the Indian speedster appeared. In surprise, she released the folds of the veil and her face was revealed. Regret, admiration and horror flashed across her features. This girl's hair was the color of a raven's wing. Bright colors played on her untanned face, although there was not the slightest shade of vulgarity in it. Her features were distinguished by subtlety, nobility and amazing beauty. As if regretting her forgetfulness, she smiled, flashing a row of even teeth, the whiteness of which could compete with the best ivory.
Then, straightening her veil, she lowered her head and continued on her way in silence, like a person whose thoughts were far from everything around her.
Chapter II
Oh-la! Oh-la! Where are you? Oh-la!
Shakespeare. "The Merchant of Venice"
While one of the two charming girls whom we have so briefly introduced to the reader was absorbed in her own thoughts, the younger, quickly recovering from her momentary fright, laughed at her fear and said to the officer who rode next to her:
– Tell me, Duncan, are such ghosts often found in these forests or was this performance organized in our honor? If so, then we should be grateful, but otherwise Cora and I will need all our courage before we meet the terrible Montcalm.
“This Indian is a fast traveler with our detachment and, according to the concepts of his tribe, a hero,” said the young officer. “He volunteered to take us to the lake along a little-known path that greatly shortens the path. Thanks to this, we will arrive at the place faster than following our detachment.
“I don’t like him,” the girl answered and feigned a shudder, although she was really scared. “Do you know him well, Duncan?” Otherwise, of course, you wouldn’t trust him.
“I would rather not trust you, Alice.” I know this Indian, otherwise I would not have chosen him as a guide, especially at such a moment. Magua is said to be a native of Canada, and yet serves our friends the Mohawks, who, as you know, are one of the six allied tribes. I was told that he came here by some strange accident that had to do with your father. It seems that the general treated this Indian cruelly... However, I forgot this idle chatter. It's enough that he's our friend now.
“If he was my father’s enemy, so much the worse for us,” the girl remarked, seriously alarmed. “Major Hayward, please speak to him, I want to hear the sound of his voice.” Maybe it's stupid, but I always judge a person by his voice.
“If I talk to him, it will probably lead nowhere,” said Hayward. - He will answer me with some monosyllabic exclamation. It seems to me that Magua understands English, but pretends that he does not know our language. In addition, he is unlikely to want to have a conversation with me now, when wartime requires him to sacredly uphold the dignity of a warrior... But look, our guide stopped. Obviously, this is where the path begins, which we will have to turn onto.
Duncan was right. When the horsemen approached the Indian, who stood motionless, pointing to the thicket of bushes bordering the military road, they saw a path so narrow that it could only be ridden in single file.
“We have to take this path,” Hayward said in a whisper. “Don’t express any fears, otherwise you will bring upon yourself the very danger you fear.”
– Cora, don’t you think it’s safer to go with the detachment? - Golden-haired Alice asked her sister. - Although it will be more tiring...
“Alice, you don’t know the customs and habits of savages well, and therefore you don’t understand in what cases you should be afraid,” objected Hayward. “If the enemy had already reached the portage, which is completely incredible, since our scouts would have reported this to us, he would obviously begin to surround our detachment, hoping to get more scalps. The path of the detachment is known to everyone, but our path is still a mystery, since we decided to go along it only an hour ago.
“Should we not believe this man just because his movements and habits are not similar to ours, and his complexion is darker than the skin of white people?” – Cora asked coldly.
Alice ceased to hesitate; She struck her Narragansett with her whip, was the first to part the branches and followed the walker along a dark, narrow forest path. Hayward looked at Cora with admiration; he did not even notice that her blond companion went deeper into the thicket alone. The servants, obeying the orders received in advance, did not follow them, but moved after the detachment. Hayward explained to the girls that this was done out of caution, on the advice of their cunning guide: the Indian wanted to reduce the number of tracks in case scouts from Canadian tribes wandered here. The thorny path was not conducive to conversation; Soon the travelers passed the wide edge of a dense forest and found themselves under the dark arches of large trees. The road has become more convenient; the walker, noticing that the young riders were now better able to control their horses, quickened his pace, and Cora and Alice had to start ambling the Narragansetts. Hayward turned around to say something to the dark-eyed Cora, but at that moment there was the distant sound of hooves clattering on the roots on the path. This forced the young man to stop his horse. Cora and Alice also pulled on the reins. All three wanted to know what was going on.
A few moments later they saw a foal, which, like a deer, rushed between the trunks of the pine trees; after him appeared the awkward figure we described in the previous chapter. The clumsy stranger approached as fast as his skinny horse could carry him. Until now, this figure had been out of sight of travelers. If he usually attracted the curious with his tall stature, then his “grace” as a rider deserved even more attention. Every now and then he spurred his nag with one leg, but all he achieved was that its hind legs walked at a light gallop, while the front legs made some vague, constantly changing movements, similar to a lame trot. Frequent changes from trot to gallop created an optical illusion, as a result of which it seemed as if the horse was moving faster than it actually was; in any case, Hayward, an expert on horses, could not decide with what gait the poor animal was moving, driven by the spur of a persistent rider.
All movements of both the rider and the horse were unusual. With each step of the horse, the stranger rose in the stirrups and, either straightening his legs too much, or bending his legs excessively, suddenly grew tall, and then bent so that no one could positively judge his height. If we add to this that, under the influence of his spur, one side of the horse seemed to run faster than the other, and the movements of its shaggy tail constantly indicated which side was suffering from the spur, we complete the image of the nag and its rider.
The wrinkles that had appeared on Hayward’s beautiful, open, manly forehead gradually smoothed out, and he smiled slightly. Alice couldn't help but laugh. And even a grin flashed in Cora’s dark, thoughtful eyes.
– Do you want to see any of us? - Duncan asked as the strange rider rode up and stopped the horse. “I hope you haven’t brought us any bad news?”
“Exactly,” replied the stranger, waving his three-cornered hat to stir the sultry forest air, and leaving the listeners to decide to what part of the question his remark applied. However, after cooling his hot face and catching his breath, the eccentric added: “They say you are going to Fort William Henry.” I am heading there too, and therefore I decided that we would all enjoy making this journey in pleasant company.
“You seem to have arrogated to yourself the decisive vote,” Hayward objected. - But there are three of us, you only consulted with yourself.
- That's it. The most important thing is to know your own desires, and when this is already known, then all that remains is to fulfill your intention. That's why I caught up with you.
“If you’re going to the lake, you’re on the wrong road,” Duncan said arrogantly. “The main road is at least half a mile behind you.”
“Exactly,” answered the strange horseman, not at all embarrassed by the cold reception. “I lived only a week in Edward and would not have asked which road I should take only if I had become dumb, and dumb I would have died for my chosen profession. “He chuckled slightly, as if his modesty did not allow him to openly admire his wit, which was completely incomprehensible to his listeners, and then continued: “It is imprudent for a man of my profession to behave too easily with people whom he is supposed to teach; this is the reason why I did not follow the detachment. Besides, I believe that a gentleman like you is certainly better than anyone else to guide travelers. This consideration made me join your society. And finally, it will be more fun for me to travel with you: we can talk.
– What an arbitrary and rash decision! - Heyward exclaimed, not knowing whether to give vent to his irritation or laugh in the stranger’s face. – But you are talking about teachings and the profession. Who you are? Is it not a teacher who teaches the noble science of accusation and defense? Or are you one of those people who are always drawing straight lines and angles, saying that they are doing mathematics?
The stranger looked at Hayward with obvious surprise, then, without complacency, on the contrary, with the greatest and solemn humility he answered:
– I hope there are no accusations involved; I do not think about protection, since, by the grace of God, I have not committed any great sin. I didn’t understand your hint about lines and angles at all; I leave the task of teaching others to those who are chosen to do this holy work. I make only claims to the bright art of psalmody, to the ability to offer praise and praise.
“This is obviously Apollo’s student,” Alice exclaimed, laughing, “and I take him under my special protection!.. Come on, Hayward, stop frowning.” Imagine that my ears yearn for gentle sounds, and let this eccentric stay with us. “Besides,” she added, hastily and sidewaysly looking at Cora, who was ahead of them, and who was slowly riding after the gloomy Indian, “in case of need, we will have an extra friend and ally.”
“Do you really think, Alice, that I would have decided to lead those I love along this unfamiliar path if I could have imagined that some danger awaited us?”
- No, no, I don’t think so. But this strange man amuses me, and if there really is music in his soul, let us not rudely push him away.
She pointed imperiously with her whip towards the road. Hayward met Alice's eyes and wanted to extend this gaze, but, obeying the girl's will, he spurred his horse and after a few jumps he found himself next to Cora.
Alice beckoned the stranger to her and set her Narragansett at a light amble.
- I'm glad I met you, my friend. Biased relatives claim that I perform duets well,” she said jokingly. “So we could brighten up the trip by indulging in our favorite art.” In addition, it would be nice to hear the maestro’s opinion about my voice.
“Indeed, psalmody refreshes both spirit and body,” answered the stranger, driving closer to Alice, “and, of course, like nothing else in the world, it calms the worried soul.” However, for complete harmony four voices are needed. Obviously you have a pleasant, rich soprano voice; With a certain amount of effort, I can hit the highest tenor notes. But we lack contralto and bass. Of course, the officer of the royal army, who for so long did not want to accept me into his society, could sing the bass line... Judging by the tones that sounded in his conversation, he has a bass.
“Don’t judge rashly by external signs: they are deceptive,” the young girl objected, smiling. “It is true that Major Hayward sometimes speaks in low notes, but, believe me, his ordinary voice is much closer to a sweet tenor than to the bass you heard.”
– How much did he practice the art of psalmody? – Alice was asked by her simple-minded interlocutor.
Alice was inclined to laugh, but she managed to suppress the fit of merriment and answered:
– It seems to me that Hayward prefers secular songs. The conditions of a soldier's life are little conducive to sedate occupations.
– A euphonious voice, like all other talents, is given to a person so that he can use it for the benefit of his neighbors and not abuse it. No one can blame me for giving my talent the wrong direction.
– Do you only practice spiritual singing?
- That's it. Just as the psalms of David are superior to all other works of poetry, so the melodies on which they are set are superior to all secular songs. Wherever I stay, no matter what countries I travel through, neither during sleep nor in moments of vigil I do not part with my favorite book, published in Boston in 1744, entitled “Psalms, hymns and sacred songs of the Old and New Testaments, translated into English verses for the instruction and comfort of true believers in public and private life, especially in New England.”
At these words, the eccentric took a book out of his pocket and, putting iron-rimmed glasses on his nose, opened the volume with the caution and reverence required by the handling of sacred objects. Then, without further reasoning or explanation, he put some strange instrument into his mouth. A piercing, high-pitched sound was heard. Following this, the psalmist took a note with his voice an octave lower and finally began to sing. Tender, melodic sounds began to flow; even the restless movement of the horse did not stop the singing.
Oh, how gratifying it is -
Live in brotherhood and labor,
It's like incense
Running down my beard!
The psalmist kept time with his right hand. Lowering it, he lightly touched the pages of the book; picking it up, he waved it with special skill. His hand did not stop moving until the last sound died away.
The silence of the forest was broken. Magua turned to Duncan and muttered a few words in broken English, and Hayward, in turn, spoke to the stranger, interrupting his musical exercises:
- Now, apparently, no danger is foreseen, but still, for the sake of simple caution, we should drive quietly. I must, Alice, deprive you of the pleasure, and ask this gentleman to postpone the singing until a more favorable time.
“Indeed, you are depriving me of great pleasure,” the girl answered with a sly grin. “Really, I have never heard such meaningless words sung so perfectly!” I was about to ask our companion about the reasons for such a strange discrepancy, but your thunderous bass, Duncan, interrupted the thread of my thoughts.
The young officer fell silent and looked towards the thicket, then looked sideways and suspiciously at Magua, who was still walking calmly and unperturbed. Seeing this, the young man smiled, laughing at his own anxieties: hadn’t he just mistook the glare of light on some shiny wild berries for the burning pupils of an Indian hiding in the foliage! Now the major rode calmly, continuing the conversation interrupted by the fears that flashed through his mind.
A union of six tribes - the Mohawks, Oneidas, Senecas, Cayugas, Onondagas and Tuscaroras, related tribes that were at enmity with the Lenape tribes (Mohicans and Delawares). These six tribes went by different nicknames. They were often called Macuas, Mings, or Iroquois.
In 1826, Fenimore Cooper wrote his novel The Last of the Mohicans. A brief summary of it is presented in this article. In his book, the author was one of the first to describe the uniqueness of the customs and spiritual world of the American Indians. The genre of historical novel is "The Last of the Mohicans". Its summary, like the work itself, takes place in the mid-18th century. So, let's start describing the plot of this book.
The author of the work “The Last of the Mohicans,” a brief summary of which we describe, says that in the wars that broke out between the French and the British for the possession of the lands of America (1755-1763), the warring parties more than once took advantage of the feuds of local Indians for their own purposes. tribes It was a very cruel and difficult time. It is not surprising that the girls, traveling to see their father, the commander of the besieged fort, accompanied by Duncan Hayward, a major, were worried. The Indian Magua, nicknamed the Sly Fox, especially worried Cora and Alice (that was the name of the sisters). This man volunteered to lead them along a safe forest path. Hayward reassured his companions, although he too was beginning to worry: maybe they were lost? By continuing to read the summary of the novel "The Last of the Mohicans", you will find out if this is so.
Meeting with Hawkeye, Magua's exposure and escape
In the evening, fortunately, the travelers met Hawkeye (a nickname firmly attached to St. John's wort). Moreover, he was not alone, but with Uncas and Chingachgook. An Indian who got lost in the forest during the day?! Hawkeye was much more alarmed than Duncan. He suggested that he grab the conductor, but he managed to escape. No one doubts anymore that the Magua Indian is a traitor. With the help of Chingachgook, as well as Uncas, his son, Hawkeye transports the arrivals to a small rocky island.
Chingachgook and Hawkeye go for help
Further, the summary of the book “The Last of the Mohicans” describes a modest dinner, during which Uncas provides Alice and Cora with all kinds of services. It is noticeable that he pays more attention to the latter than to her sister. The Indians, attracted by the wheezing of horses frightened by wolves, find their shelter. A shootout ensues, followed by hand-to-hand combat. The first onslaught of the Hurons was repulsed, but the besieged no longer had any ammunition left. All that remains is to run, which, alas, is too much for the girls. You need to swim at night along a cold and rapids mountain river. Cora suggests that Hawkeye go with Chingachgook to bring help. She has to convince Uncas longer than other hunters: the sisters and the major end up in the hands of Magua, the negative hero created by Fenimore Cooper ("The Last of the Mohicans").
The captives and captors stop to rest on a hill. Sly Fox tells Cora why they were kidnapped. Colonel Munro, her father, as it turned out, once greatly insulted him, ordering him to be flogged for drunkenness. In revenge, he plans to take his daughter as his wife. Cora resolutely refuses. Magua decides to brutally deal with his prisoners. The major and sisters are tied to trees, near which brushwood is laid out to light a fire. The Indian advises Cora to agree at least for the sake of her young sister, who is still practically a child. However, having learned what Magua demands from Cora in exchange for their lives, the brave heroine of the work “The Last of the Mohicans” prefers to die painfully. The summary of the chapters does not describe in detail all the misadventures of the girls. Let's move on to the story of their salvation.
Rescue the girls
The Indian throws his tomahawk. A hatchet pierces the tree, pinning Cora's blond hair. The major breaks free of his bonds and attacks the Indian. Duncan is almost defeated, but a shot is fired and the Indian falls. It was Hawkeye and his friends who arrived. The enemies are defeated after a short battle. Having pretended to be dead, Magua seizes the moment to escape again.
Travelers arrive at the fort
The dangerous journey ends safely - the travelers finally reach the fort. Despite the French besieging it, they manage to get inside under the cover of fog. Finally, the father sees his daughters. The defenders of the fort are forced to accept defeat, however, on conditions that are honorable for the British: the defeated retain their weapons and banners and can retreat unhindered to their own.
New kidnapping of Cora and Alice
However, this is not the end of the misadventures of the main characters in The Last of the Mohicans. A summary of further misfortunes that befell them is as follows. Burdened with wounded women and children, the garrison leaves the fort at dawn. In a narrow wooded gorge located nearby, the Indians attack a convoy. Once again Magua kidnaps Cora and Alice.
Colonel Munro, Major Duncan, Uncas, Chingachgook and Hawkeye inspect the battle site on the 3rd day after the tragedy. Uncas concludes from barely noticeable traces that the girls are alive and that they are being held captive. Continuing to inspect this place, the Mohican even establishes that they were kidnapped by Magua! Friends, after consulting, set off on a very dangerous journey. They decide to make their way to the homeland of the Sly Fox, to the lands inhabited mainly by the Hurons. Losing and finding traces again, experiencing many adventures, the pursuers finally find themselves near the village.
Rescue of Uncas, cunning transformation
Here they meet David, the psalmist, who, taking advantage of his reputation as a weak-minded person, voluntarily followed the girls. From him, the colonel learns about what happened to his daughters: Magua kept Alice with him, and sent Cora to the Delawares living on the Huron lands next door. Duncan, in love with Alice, wants to penetrate the village at any cost. He decides to pretend to be a fool, changing his appearance with the help of Chingachgook and Hawkeye. In this form, Duncan goes on reconnaissance.
You're probably curious to know how "The Last of the Mohicans" continues? Reading the summary, of course, is not as interesting as the novel itself. Nevertheless, its plot, you see, is exciting.
Having reached the Huron camp, Duncan poses as a doctor from France. Just like David, the Hurons allow him to go everywhere. To the horror of Duncan, the captive Uncas is brought to the village. At first he is mistaken for a simple prisoner, but Magua recognizes him as the Swift Deer. This name, hated by the Hurons, causes such anger that if the Cunning Fox had not stood up for him, Uncas would have been torn to pieces. However, Magua convinces his fellow tribesmen to postpone the execution until the morning. Uncas is taken to the hut.
The father of an Indian woman who is sick turns to Duncan as a doctor for help. He comes to the cave in which the sick woman lies, accompanied by a tame bear and the girl’s father. Duncan asks to be left alone with the patient. The Indians obey this demand and leave, leaving the bear in the cave. He transforms - it turns out that Hawkeye is hiding under an animal skin! Duncan, with the help of a hunter, discovers Alice hidden in a cave, but Magua appears. The Sly Fox triumphs. However, not for long. What does Cooper tell the reader about next ("The Last of the Mohicans")? The summary describes in general terms the further fate of the heroes.
Escape from captivity
The “bear” pounces on the Indian and squeezes him in his arms, and the major ties the villain’s hands. Alice cannot take a single step due to the stress she has experienced. The girl is wrapped in Indian clothes, Duncan carries her outside, accompanied by the “bear”. The self-proclaimed “doctor” orders the patient’s father to stay in order to guard the exit from the cave, citing the power of the Evil Spirit. This trick succeeds - the fugitives safely reach the forest. Hawkeye at the edge of the forest shows Duncan the path that leads to the Delawares. He then returns to free Uncas. With the help of David, he deceives the warriors guarding the Swift Deer, and then hides in the forest with the Mohican. Magua is furious. He is discovered in a cave and freed, he calls on his fellow tribesmen to take revenge.
A necessary sacrifice
At the head of a military detachment, the Sly Fox decides to go to the Delawares. Magua, having hidden a detachment in the forest, enters the village and turns to the leaders with a demand to hand over the captives to him. The leaders, deceived by Magua's eloquence, at first agree, but Cora intervenes, who says that in reality only she is the captive of the Sly Fox - the rest have freed themselves. Colonel Munro promises a rich ransom for Cora, but the Indian refuses. Uncas, who unexpectedly became the supreme leader, must release the Cunning Fox along with his captive. Magua partingly warns that after the time necessary to escape, the Delawares will go on the warpath.
Dramatic ending
Let's move on to the description of the ending of the novel, authored by Cooper ("The Last of the Mohicans"). The summary does not convey, unfortunately, all its drama. Military action soon brings a decisive victory to the tribe thanks to the leadership of Uncas. The Hurons are defeated. Having captured Cora, Magua flees. The enemy is pursued by the Swift Deer. Realizing that it will not be possible to leave, the last of Magua’s companions to survive raises a knife over the girl. Seeing that he might be late, Uncas throws himself off the cliff between the Indian and the girl, but falls and loses consciousness. Cora is killed. Swift-footed Deer, however, manages to defeat her killer. Seizing the moment, Magua thrusts a knife into the young man’s back, after which he takes off running. A shot is heard - this is Hawkeye dealing with the villain.
Thus, the fathers were orphaned, and the entire people were orphaned. The Delawares had just lost their newfound leader, who was the last of the Mohicans. However, one leader can be replaced by another. The youngest daughter remained with the colonel. And Chingachgook lost everything. Only Hawkeye finds words of consolation. He turns to the Great Serpent and says that the sagamore is not alone. They may have different skin colors, but they are destined to follow the same path.
This is how F. Cooper ends his work (“The Last of the Mohicans”). We have described its brief content only in general terms, since the work itself is quite large in volume, like all novels. Its plot, as you can see, is very fascinating. F. Cooper never makes readers bored. “The Last of the Mohicans,” a summary of which we have just described, is just one of the many works of this author. Fenimore Cooper's work brings pleasure to many readers.
