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Chapter 17
Foraninstant,themotherstood,likeastatueofdespair,lookingwildlydownattheunseemlyobject,whichhadsolatelynestledinherbosomandsmiledinherface;andthensheraisedhereyesandcountenancetowardsheaven,asifcallingonGodtocursetheperpetratorofthefouldeed.Shewassparedthesinofsuchaprayer;for,maddenedathisdisappointment,andexcitedatthesightofblood,theHuronmercifullydrovehistomahawkintoherownbrain.Themothersankundertheblow,andfell,graspingatherchild,indeath,withthesameengrossinglovethathadcausedhertocherishitwhenliving.
AtthatdangerousmomentMaguaplacedhishandstohismouth,andraisedthefatalandappallingwhoop.ThescatteredIndiansstartedatthewell-knowncry,ascoursersboundatthesignaltoquitthegoal;and,directly,therearosesuchayellalongtheplain,andthroughthearchesofthewood,asseldomburstfromhumanlipsbefore.Theywhohearditlistenedwithacurdlinghorrorattheheart,littleinferiortothatdreadwhichmaybeexpectedtoattendtheblastsofthefinalsummons.
Morethantwothousandravingsavagesbrokefromtheforestatthesignal,andthrewthemselvesacrossthefatalplainwithinstinctivealacrity.Weshallnotdwellontherevoltinghorrorsthatsucceeded.Deathwaseverywhere,andinhismostterrificanddisgustingaspects.Resistanceonlyservedtoinflamethemurderers,whoinflictedtheirfuriousblowslongaftertheirvictimswerebeyondthepoweroftheirresentment.
