of the Huron. Unable longer to
foil an enemy so alert and vigilant, he threw his arms about him, and
succeeded in pinning the limbs of the other to his side, with an iron
grasp, but one that was far too exhausting to himself to continue long.
In this extremity he heard a voice near him, shouting:

"Extarminate the varlets! no quarter to an accursed Mingo!"

At the next moment, the breech of Hawkeye's rifle fell on the naked head
of his adversary, whose muscles appeared to wither under the shock, as
he sank from the arms of Duncan, flexible and motionless.

When Uncas had brained his first antagonist, he turned, like a hungry
lion, to seek another. The fifth and only Huron disengaged at the first
onset had paused a moment, and then seeing that all around him were
employed in the deadly strife, he had sought, with hellish vengeance,
to complete the baffled work of revenge. Raising a shout of triumph, he
sprang toward the defenseless Cora, sending his keen axe as the dreadful
precursor of his approach. The tomahawk grazed her shoulder, and cutting
the withes which bound her to the tree, left the maiden at liberty to
fly. She eluded the grasp of the savage, and reckless of her own
safety, threw herself on the bosom of Alice, striving with convulsed
and ill-directed fingers, to tear asunder the twigs which confined the
person of her sister. Any other than a monster would have relented at
such an act of generous devotion to the best and purest affection; but
the breast of the Huron was a stranger to sympathy. Seizing Cora by the
rich tresses which fell in confusion about her form, he tore her from
her frantic hold, and bowed her down with brutal violence to her knees.
The savage drew the flowing curls through his hand, and raising them
on high with an outstretched arm, he passed the knife around the
exquisitely molded head of his victim, with a taunting and exulting
laugh. But he purchased this moment of fierce gratification with the
loss of the fatal opportunity. It was just then the sight caught the eye
of Uncas. Bounding from his footsteps he appeared for an instant darting
through the air and descending in a ball he fell on the chest of his
enemy, driving him many yards from the spot, headlong and prostrate. The
violence of the exertion cast the young Mohican at his side. They arose
together, fought, and bled, each in his turn. But the conflict was soon
decided; the tomahawk of Heyward and the rifle of Hawkeye descended