Part I

THE DECEIT

From the fire circle Captain Hayward called her name and she turned away from the entrance.

"You hear our probable fortunes," he said when she stood before him, "and you know we have everything to hope from the anxiety and caution of your father. Come, tend to Gamut and keep him here when he wakes. I must return to the defence."

Cora nodded and whispered, "God-speed," to his retreating back.

She retired to a corner with Will and didn't pay any attention to Alice as she spoke quietly to the Captain. She noted when the men left and when the battle resumed. She listened to the gunfire. When Mr. Gamut awoke she helped Alice distract him. Will appealed to her for stories and she exhausted the Bible narratives of Caleb, Joshua, David, Elijah, Jonah, and the Gospels in turn and had had to draw upon her own experiences to occupy him.

"The water wasn't too cold, just as he had promised. I felt so silly for making a fuss—" she paused dramatically, "until I came out and there were leeches stuck to my legs.

"I swore I would never forgive him."

"But Uncle Freddy is your favourite," Will pointed out.

"Well, yes," Alice interjected, smiling impishly, "but you haven't heard the rest of the story. You see, Cora kept to her word and for weeks she wouldn't speak to him. He tried everything to charm her back. But no, she would have none of it. Then one day her horse got out and no one could find the mare. She was beside herself with worry. A boy came up from the glen and said that he had found a grey in a meadow but that he couldn't catch her, and did she belong to anyone? Uncle Freddy heard of it and he took a friend and a rope and a bucket of feed and went after her and brought her back."

While Alice related the story Cora had the chance to train her ears on the sounds of the outside and she realised that the rushing cataract was the only audible noise. The muskets that had been pounding until then were silent. She waited for the echoing shots to continue but the waterfall—Che-pon-tuc was what Bumppo had called it—was all she heard.

…"and after that he's been her favourite uncle," Alice finished. She looked over at her sister for any additions, but Cora shook her head tiredly so Alice continued on alone.

The men returned a few minutes later. Cora had only to look at their faces to know that something had gone awry. Captain Heyward slumped down on the stone floor and stared down at his single pistol. She wondered where the second was. Chingachgook and Uncas stood together speaking softly in their own language.

"Ay, ay," Bumppo muttered, apparently having been listening to his brother and nephew, "that may be. As for me I will die with no words of scoffing in my mouth and without bitterness in my heart."

Captain Hayward did not look up. In the dim lighting of the cave she could only guess that he was weeping.

Will stared at the old trapper and Alice hugged him tightly.

Oh Lord, let there be a way to spare them. Will, Lord, spare my little Will, Cora prayed. Aloud she said, "Why die at all? The path is open on every side. Fly into the woods and call on God for succour."—waving towards the exit—"Go, brave men, we owe you too much already; let us not involve you in our hapless fortunes."

The eyes of all turned to her. Captain Heyward with a sort of bewildered wonder, Bumppo with a doubtful look, Mr. Gamut with disapproval, the two Indians with curiosity. Alice stood up suddenly and pulled Will with her. Her face was strained and pale.

"Lady," Bumppo said finally, "ye know little of Indian warfare if ye judge the woods are open. It does not matter though, there is a chance that ye and your sister will not be killed. They will sometimes take the women prisoners." Unspoken were the words "Ye will be the only ones they spare."

"Then try the river!" she exclaimed, gesturing wildly. "Why linger to add to the number of the victims of our merciless enemies?"

"Why," he repeated, looking around at the faces about him, "because 'tis better for a man to die at peace with himself than to live haunted by an evil conscience! What answer could we give the Lieutenant-Colonel when he asked us where and how we had left his children?"

"Go to him, and take my brother with you. Take the river," she suggested as the idea came to her. "He can swim—take him and say to our father, that you left us at my bidding and that I sent you away and would not let you stay. Tell him that you left with a message to hasten to our aid. And if it be too late, bear to him the love, the blessings, the final prayers of his daughters, and bid him not to mourn their fate…." She swallowed away the lump in her throat and blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall. "Tell him to look forward to the day on which we will meet once again and never be parted. Duncan will bear witness that I sent you."

For a long time no one spoke. From the corner of her eye she saw Duncan and Uncas staring at her.

"There is reason in her words," Bumppo said at last, to himself it seemed. "Ay—But Miss Monro, there is no reason to leave two women to the French savages. No, Uncas or Chingachgook will take your brother, but we will not all leave ye."

"To increase the horror of our capture, and to diminish the chances of our escape," Alice exclaimed, standing now beside Cora. "Go, generous men, go to our father as Cora has said. It is our wish, 'tis our prayer, that you will go!" She pushed a pale Will toward Bumppo. "Take him and go." Then she withdrew to the inner cave, holding a handkerchief to her face.

After a moment of silence, Chingachgook stood. "'Twill be as ye say," he said, and he took Will's hand, and with a few words to his son and a nod to Cora he left the cave. Cora stared after her brother. Her hands clenched tightly and she held back the thoughts that threatened to break her fragile composure.

Oh Lord my God, she prayed, You are my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. Oh my God, my way is thorny. Strengthen my faith, Lord. As we sang last night, be Thou our Guard while life shall last. Oh, give me courage, Lord.

The trapper carefully set his long hunting piece on the ground. He looked her directly in the eye. "Woman, the Captain described ye as the daughter of a officer, and I thought ye and yer sister would be harmless tender blossoms, never meant nor made for the wilderness like some of the officer's wives at Edward and Albany—" he paused and looked at Alice and at the place where his brother had disappeared with Will, then back up at her face.

He continued, "I have seen countless women bred in the Province who have not half yer courage nor yer determination. I see now: a soldier's daughters may be made of the same stuff as the father. Monro's a brave man to stand against the armies of France with so few troops and in that old and poorly built fort; his daughters take after him." He shook his head.

"If ye are taken into the woods, break twigs as ye pass and make ye trail as broad as ye can, so that, if mortal eyes can see 'em, depend on having friends who will follow ye to the ends of the earth."

Cora smiled wanly in return. "Thank you, sir," she said.

The man looked uncomfortable. "Call me Nathaniel or Natty. I am no 'sir'; it seems too pretty for me," he said. "Begging yer pardon miss," he added as an afterthought.

Cora nodded, "Then thank you, Nathaniel."

"God watch over ye," he said. He shook her hand and called out to Mr. Gamut, "Come, man, 'tis time to take to the water."

The old man refused. "I cannot swim," he stated. "I shall stay with the Lieutenant-Colonel's daughters."

Nathaniel hesitated and then said, "I cannot make ye come and if ye cannot swim it would be little use. May God be with ye."

Then he too left the cave. The old singing instructor returned to his place in the far corner to brood or pray.

Cora turned to Duncan. "I have heard of your boasted skill in the water, too, Duncan," she said, "go then and bear our love to our father and tell him not to blame himself for our misfortune."

He stared at her and his expression was mixed both with confusion and anger. "Is such the faith that Cora Monro would exact from her protector?"—he smiled bitterly—"And do not say that he is not to blame. I have great respect for your father, but he is the cause of this. Do not defend him. He sent for you even as the French had scouts upon Lake George."

"Duncan Hayward!" Cora reprimanded, "You are a dear family friend, a brother even, but I will not permit you to say such things. Now is not the time for you to play at honour. You can be of no further use to us and we would be false friends indeed if we were to request you to lay aside your life when it might be saved."

"If I am your brother then let me stay and defend you both with my life, think of your sister, Cora,"—he gestured to the second cave into which Alice had retreated. "And I do not play at honour," he spat.

"The worst there can be for us is death," she argued, "and then we shall meet our Lord in Paradise. Mister Gamut will remain, and I have a pistol that I shall use if the need arises. You know my reputation. Go; why stay and die?"

Duncan gripped her elbows. "I know you must have heard the stories in Albany, if not at Edward or when you were with your father; you will not have mercy from the French Indians. Do not pretend to not know war. I know your George must have told you some of what he saw in the Holy Roman Empire."

"Do not speak of the dead to me," she hissed angrily, drawing back as far as his grip would allow.

For what seemed an eternity he held his silence, only staring into her eyes with a hurt desperation. "There are things worse than death that a woman may be made subject to," he said finally, hoarsely and with deep emotion clouding his voice. "Things that the presence of one who would die on your behalf might avert."

Cora pulled away coldly. "Duncan, tell me truly: Do you love my sister?"

"Am I that transparent?" he asked wildly. "Do not speak of it. I have not yet your father's permission to court her." He added to himself, "And now may never have even that."

"Then stay," Cora agreed, "but do not let her see you die."

Cora turned away and would have gone to her sister but she was confronted suddenly by the face of the last of the three woodsmen. Uncas leaned against the smooth rock with an immovable air about him. His arms were crossed over his chest. "I will stay," he declared simply.

Cora opened her mouth to argue or to send him away but she closed it again. "Very well. Do as you see fit." She crossed to the back of the cave, then turned. She met his gaze. "Thank you, Uncas,"—looking over at Captain Hayward—"Duncan."

She gripped the crack and swung around into the other room. There she found her sister lying upon one of the pallets of sassafras branches sobbing. Cora sat down beside her and pulled Alice into her lap. She stroked her sister's hair. "Hush my darling. Hush." Alice continued to weep. Cora began to cry with her silently.