the bottom of the canoe," returned the scout; "you
and the colonel; it will be so much taken from the size of the mark."

Heyward smiled, as he answered:

"It would be but an ill example for the highest in rank to dodge, while
the warriors were under fire!"

"Lord! Lord! that is now a white man's courage!" exclaimed the scout,
"and, like too many of his notions, not to be maintained by reason. Do
you think the sagamore, or Uncas, or even I, who am a man without a
cross, would deliberate about finding a cover in a scrimmage when an
open body would do no good? For what have the Frenchers reared up their
Quebec, if fighting is always to be done in the clearings?"

"All that you say is very true, my friend," replied Heyward; "still, our
custom must prevent us from doing as you wish."

A volley from the Hurons interrupted the discourse; and, as the bullets
whistled about them, Duncan saw the head of Uncas turned, looking back
at himself and Munro. Notwithstanding the nearness of the enemy, and his
own great personal danger, the countenance of the young warrior
expressed no other emotion, as the former was compelled to think, than
amazement at finding men willing to encounter so useless an exposure.
Chingachgook was probably better acquainted with the notions of white
men, for he did not even cast a glance aside from the riveted look his
eye maintained on the object by which he governed their course. A ball
soon struck the light and polished paddle from the hands of the chief,
and drove it through the air far in advance. A shout rose from the
Hurons, who seized the opportunity to fire another volley. Uncas
described an arc in the water with his own blade, and, as the canoe
passed swiftly on, Chingachgook recovered his paddle, and, flourishing
it on high, he gave the war-whoop of the Mohicans, and then lent his
strength and skill again to the important task.

The clamorous sounds of "Le Gros Serpent!"[91-9] "La Longue
Carabine!"[91-10] "Le Cerf Agile!"[91-11] burst at once from the canoes
behind, and seemed to give new zeal to the pursuers. The scout seized
"Kill Deer" in his left hand, and, elevating it above his head, he shook
it in triumph at his enemies. The savages answered the insult with a
yell, and immediately another volley succeeded. The bullets pattered
along the lake, and one even pierced the bark of their little vessel. No
perceptible emotion could be discovered in the Mohicans during this
critical moment,