the cavern, but to the inmost
hearts of all who heard it. It was followed by a stillness apparently
as deep as if the waters had been checked in their furious progress, at
such a horrid and unusual interruption.

"What is it?" murmured Alice, after a few moments of terrible suspense.

"What is it?" repeated Hewyard aloud.

Neither Hawkeye nor the Indians made any reply. They listened, as if
expecting the sound would be repeated, with a manner that expressed
their own astonishment. At length they spoke together, earnestly, in the
Delaware language, when Uncas, passing by the inner and most concealed
aperture, cautiously left the cavern. When he had gone, the scout first
spoke in English.

"What it is, or what it is not, none here can tell, though two of us
have ranged the woods for more than thirty years. I did believe there
was no cry that Indian or beast could make, that my ears had not heard;
but this has proved that I was only a vain and conceited mortal."

"Was it not, then, the shout the warriors make when they wish to
intimidate their enemies?" asked Cora who stood drawing her veil about
her person, with a calmness to which her agitated sister was a stranger.

"No, no; this was bad, and shocking, and had a sort of unhuman sound;
but when you once hear the war-whoop, you will never mistake it for
anything else. Well, Uncas!" speaking in Delaware to the young chief as
he re-entered, "what see you? do our lights shine through the blankets?"

The answer was short, and apparently decided, being given in the same
tongue.

"There is nothing to be seen without," continued Hawkeye, shaking his
head in discontent; "and our hiding-place is still in darkness. Pass
into the other cave, you that need it, and seek for sleep; we must
be afoot long before the sun, and make the most of our time to get to
Edward, while the Mingoes are taking their morning nap."

Cora set the example of compliance, with a steadiness that taught the
more timid Alice the necessity of obedience. Before leaving the place,
however, she whispered a request to Duncan, that he would follow. Uncas
raised the blanket for their passage, and as the sisters turned to thank
him for this act of attention, they saw the scout seated again before
the dying embers, with his face resting on his hands, in a manner which
showed how deeply he brooded on the unaccountable interruption which had
broken up their evening devotions.

Heyward took with him a blazing