d by one of the young Indians who
had furnished the arms, and who now touched his shoulder, saying in
exceedingly broken English:
"Can the pale face beat it?"
"Yes, Huron!" exclaimed the scout, raising the short rifle in his right
hand, and shaking it at Magua, with as much apparent ease as if it were
a reed; "yes, Huron, I could strike you now, and no power on earth could
prevent the deed! The soaring hawk is not more certain of the dove than
I am this moment of you, did I choose to send a bullet to your heart!
Why should I not? Why!--because the gifts of my color forbid it, and I
might draw down evil on tender and innocent heads. If you know such a
being as God, thank Him, therefore, in your inward soul; for you have
reason!"
The flushed countenance, angry eye and swelling figure of the scout,
produced a sensation of secret awe in all that heard him. The Delawares
held their breath in expectation; but Magua himself, even while he
distrusted the forbearance of his enemy, remained immovable and calm,
where he stood wedged in by the crowd, as one who grew to the spot.
"Beat it," repeated the young Delaware at the elbow of the scout.
"Beat what, fool!--what?" exclaimed Hawkeye, still flourishing the
weapon angrily above his head, though his eye no longer sought the
person of Magua.
"If the white man is the warrior he pretends," said the aged chief, "let
him strike nigher to the mark."
The scout laughed aloud--a noise that produced the startling effect of
an unnatural sound on Heyward; then dropping the piece, heavily, into
his extended left hand, it was discharged, apparently by the shock,
driving the fragments of the vessel into the air, and scattering them on
every side. Almost at the same instant, the rattling sound of the rifle
was heard, as he suffered it to fall, contemptuously, to the earth.
The first impression of so strange a scene was engrossing admiration.
Then a low, but increasing murmur, ran through the multitude, and
finally swelled into sounds that denoted a lively opposition in
the sentiments of the spectators. While some openly testified their
satisfaction at so unexampled dexterity, by far the larger portion
of the tribe were inclined to believe the success of the shot was the
result of accident. Heyward was not slow to confirm an opinion that was
so favorable to his own pretensions.
"It was chance!" he exclaimed; "none can shoot without an aim!"
"Chance!" echoed the excited woodsm
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