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An exclamation of delight and exultation escaped the Indian; and then, laying his hand eagerly on the arm of his friend, he asked if there were any scalps taken.

“That I will maintain, in the face of all the Delaware tribe, old Tamenund,4 and your father, the great Uncas, as well as the rest, is ag’in white gifts! My scalp is on my head, as you can see, Sarpent, and that was the only scalp that was in danger, when one side was altogether Christian and white.”

“Did no warrior fall?—Deerslayer did not get his name by being slow of sight, or clumsy with the rifle!”

“In that particular, chief, you’re nearer reason, and therefore nearer being right. I may say one Mingo fell.”

“A chief!” demanded the other, with startling vehemence.

“Nay, that’s more than I know or can say. He was artful, and treacherous, and stout-hearted, and may well have gained popularity enough with his people to be named to that rank. The man fou’t well, though his eye wasn’t quick enough for one who had had his schooling in your company, Delaware.”

“My brother and friend struck the body?”

“That was uncalled for, seeing that the Mingo died in my arms. The truth may as well be said at once; he fou’t like a man of red gifts, and I fou’t like a man with gifts of my own color. God gave me the victory; I couldn’t fly in the face of his providence by forgetting my birth and natur’. White he made me, and white I shall live and die.”

“Good! Deerslayer is a paleface, and has paleface hands. A Delaware will look for the scalp, and hang it on a pole, and sing a song in his honor, when we go back to our people. The honor belongs to the tribe; it must not be lost.”

“This is easy talking, but ‘twill not be as easy doing. The Mingo’s body is in the hands of his fri’nds, and, no doubt, is hid in some hole, where Delaware cunning will never be able to get at his scalp.”

The young man then gave his friend a succinct, but clear account of the event of the morning, concealing nothing of any moment, and yet touching on everything modestly and with a careful attention to avoid the Indian habit of boasting. Chingachgook again expressed his satisfaction at the honor won by his friend, and then both arose, the hour having arrived when it became prudent to move the ark farther from the land.

It was now quite dark; the heavens having become clouded, and the stars hid. The north wind had ceased, as was usual, with the setting of the sun, and a light air arose from the south. This change favoring the design of Deerslayer, he lifted his grapnel, and the scow immediately and quite perceptibly began to drift more into the lake.

The sail was set, when the motion of the craft increased to a rate not much less than two miles in the hour. As this superseded the necessity of rowing—an occupation that an Indian would not be likely to desire—Deerslayer, Chingachgook, and Judith seated themselves in the stern of the scow, where the first governed its movements by holding the oar. Here they discoursed on their future movements, and on the means that ought to be used in order to effect the liberation of their friends.

In this dialogue Judith held a material part; the Delaware readily understanding all she said, while his own replies and remarks, both of which were few and pithy, were occasionally rendered into English by his friend. Judith rose greatly in the estimation of her companions, in the half hour that followed. Prompt of resolution and firm of purpose, her suggestions and expedients partook of her spirit and sagacity, both of which were of a character to find favor with men of the frontier. The events that had occurred since their meeting, as well as her isolated and dependent situation, induced the girl to feel towards Deerslayer like the friend of a year, instead of an acquaintance of a day; and so completely had she been won by his guileless truth of character and of feeling—pure novelties in our sex, as respected her own experience—that his peculiarities excited