Chapter 25 - Page 2

The girl followed the
movement with pleased wonder, smiling as each new beauty met her
gaze.

"Hugh!" exclaimed the chief, in admiration of a scene so unusual
even to him, for this was the first lake he had ever beheld. "This
is the country of the Manitou! It is too good for Mingos, Hist;
but the curs of that tribe are howling in packs through the woods.
They think that the Delawares are asleep, over the mountains."

"All but one of them is, Chingachgook. There is one here; and he
is of the blood of Uncas!"

"What is one warrior against a tribe? The path to our villages is
very long and crooked, and we shall travel it under a cloudy sky.
I am afraid, too, Honeysuckle of the Hills, that we shall travel
it alone!"

Hist understood the allusion, and it made her sad; though it sounded
sweet to her ears to be compared, by the warrior she so loved, to
the most fragrant and the pleasantest of all the wild flowers of
her native woods. Still she continued silent, as became her when
the allusion was to a grave interest that men could best control,
though it exceeded the power of education to conceal the smile that
gratified feeling brought to her pretty mouth.

"When the sun is thus," continued the Delaware, pointing to the
zenith, by simply casting upward a hand and finger, by a play of
the wrist, "the great hunter of our tribe will go back to the Hurons
to be treated like a bear, that they roast and skin even on full
stomachs."

"The Great Spirit may soften their hearts, and not suffer them to
be so bloody minded. I have lived among the Hurons, and know them.
They have hearts, and will not forget their own children, should
they fall into the hands of the Delawares."

"A wolf is forever howling; a hog will always eat. They have
lost warriors; even their women will call out for vengeance. The
pale-face has the eyes of an eagle, and can see into a Mingo's
heart; he looks for no mercy. There is a cloud over his spirit,
though it is not before his face."

A long, thoughtful pause succeeded, during which Hist stealthily
took the hand of the chief, as if seeking his support, though she
scarce ventured to raise her eyes to a countenance that was now
literally becoming terrible, under the conflicting passions and
stern resolution that were struggling in the breast of its owner.

"What will the Son of Uncas do?" the girl at length timidly asked.
"He is a chief, and is already celebrated in council, though so
young; what does his heart tell him is wisest; does the head, too,
speak the same words as the heart?"

"What does Wah-ta-Wah say, at a moment when my