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James Fenimore Cooper. The Last of the
Mohicans, 1826
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Death of Cora
and Magua
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Chapter 32 - Death of Cora and Magua
"I will go no further!" cried Cora, stopping
unexpectedly on a ledge of rock, that overhung a deep precipice, at
no great distance from the summit of the mountain. "Kill me if thou
wilt, detestable Huron; I will go no further."
The supporters of the maiden raised their ready
tomahawks with the impious joy that friends are thought to take in
mischief, but Magua stayed the uplifted arms. The Huron chief, after
casting the weapons he had wrested from his companions over the
rock, drew his knife, and turned to his captive, with a look in
which conflicting passions fiercely contended
"Woman," he said, "chose; the wigwam or the knife of
Le Subtil!"
Cora regarded him not, but dropping on her knees,
she raised her eyes and stretched her arms toward heaven, saying in
a meek and yet confiding voice:
"I am thine; do with me as thou seest best!"
"Woman," repeated Magua, hoarsely, and endeavoring
in vain to catch a glance from her serene and beaming eye, "choose!"
But Cora neither heard nor heeded his demand. The
form of the Huron trembled in every fibre, and he raised his arm on
high, but dropped it again with a bewildered air, like one who
doubted. Once more he struggled with himself and lifted the keen
weapon again; but just then a piercing cry was heard above them, and
Uncas appeared, leaping frantically, from a fearful height, upon the
ledge. Magua recoiled a step; and one of his assistants, profiting
by the chance, sheathed his own knife in the bosom of Cora.
The Huron sprang like a tiger on his offending and
already retreating countryman, but the falling form of Uncas
separated the unnatural combatants. Diverted from his object by this
interruption, and maddened by the murder he had just witnessed,
Magua buried his weapon in the back of the prostrate Delaware,
uttering an unearthly shout as he committed the dastardly deed. But
Uncas arose from the blow, as the wounded panther turns upon his
foe, and struck the murderer of Cora to his feet, by an effort in
which the last of his failing strength was expended. Then, with a
stern and steady look, he turned to Le Subtil, and indicated by the
expression of his eye all that he would do had not the power
deserted him.
 The latter seized the nerveless arm of the
unresisting Delaware, and passed his knife into his bosom three
several times, before his victim, still keeping his gaze riveted on
his enemy, with a look of inextinguishable scorn, fell dead at his
feet.
"Mercy! Mercy! Huron," cried Heyward, from above, in
tones nearly choked by horror; "give mercy, and thou shalt receive
from it!"
Whirling the bloody knife up at the imploring youth,
the victorious Magua uttered a cry so fierce, so wild, and yet so
joyous, that it conveyed the sounds of savage triumph to the ears of
those who fought in the valley, a thousand feet below. He was
answered by a burst from the lips of the scout, whose tall person
was just then seen moving swiftly toward him, along those dangerous
crags, with steps as bold and reckless as if he possessed the power
to move in air. But when the hunter reached the scene of the
ruthless massacre, the ledge was tenanted only by the dead.
His keen eye took a single look at the victims, and
then shot its glances over the difficulties of the ascent in his
front. A form stood at the brow of the mountain, on the very edge of
the giddy height, with uplifted arms, in an awful attitude of
menace. Without stopping to consider his person, the rifle of
Hawkeye was raised; but a rock, which fell on the head of one of the
fugitives below, exposed the indignant and glowing countenance of
the honest Gamut. Then Magua issued from a crevice, and, stepping
with calm indifference over the body of the last of his associates,
he leaped a wide fissure, and ascended the rocks at a point where
the arm of David could not reach him. A single bound would carry him
to the brow of the precipice, and assure his safety. Before taking
the leap, however, the Huron paused, and shaking his hand at the
scout, he shouted:
The pale faces are dogs! The Delawares women! Magua
leaves them on the rocks, for the crows!
Laughing hoarsely, he made a desperate leap, and
fell short of his mark, though his hands grasped a shrub on the
verge of the height. The form of Hawkeye had crouched like a beast
about to take its spring, and his frame trembled so violently with
eagerness that the muzzle of the half-raised rifle played like a
leaf fluttering in the wind. Without exhausting himself with
fruitless efforts, the cunning Magua suffered his body to drop to
the length of his arms, and found a fragment for his feet to rest
on. Then, summoning all his powers, he renewed the attempt, and so
far succeeded as to draw his knees on the edge of the mountain. It
was now, when the body of his enemy was most collected together,
that the agitated weapon of the scout was drawn to his shoulder. The
surrounding rocks themselves were not steadier than the piece
became, for the single instant that it poured out its contents.
The arms of the Huron relaxed, and his body fell back a little,
while his knees still kept their position. Turning a relentless look
on his enemy, he shook a hand in grim defiance. But his hold
loosened, and his dark person was seen cutting the air with its head
downward, for a fleeting instant, until it glided past the fringe of
shrubbery which clung to the mountain, in its rapid flight to
destruction.
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