ake the snows of twenty winters run
off in the streams before he saw a pale face; and he was happy! Then
his Canada fathers came into the woods, and taught him to drink the
fire-water, and he became a rascal. The Hurons drove him from the graves
of his fathers, as they would chase the hunted buffalo. He ran down the
shores of the lakes, and followed their outlet to the 'city of cannon'
There he hunted and fished, till the people chased him again through the
woods into the arms of his enemies. The chief, who was born a Huron, was
at last a warrior among the Mohawks!"

"Something like this I had heard before," said Cora, observing that he
paused to suppress those passions which began to burn with too bright a
flame, as he recalled the recollection of his supposed injuries.

"Was it the fault of Le Renard that his head was not made of rock? Who
gave him the fire-water? who made him a villain? 'Twas the pale faces,
the people of your own color."

"And am I answerable that thoughtless and unprincipled men exist, whose
shades of countenance may resemble mine?" Cora calmly demanded of the
excited savage.

"No; Magua is a man, and not a fool; such as you never open their lips
to the burning stream: the Great Spirit has given you wisdom!"

"What, then, have I do to, or say, in the matter of your misfortunes,
not to say of your errors?"

"Listen," repeated the Indian, resuming his earnest attitude; "when
his English and French fathers dug up the hatchet, Le Renard struck the
war-post of the Mohawks, and went out against his own nation. The pale
faces have driven the red-skins from their hunting grounds, and now when
they fight, a white man leads the way. The old chief at Horican, your
father, was the great captain of our war-party. He said to the Mohawks
do this, and do that, and he was minded. He made a law, that if an
Indian swallowed the fire-water, and came into the cloth wigwams of his
warriors, it should not be forgotten. Magua foolishly opened his
mouth, and the hot liquor led him into the cabin of Munro. What did the
gray-head? let his daughter say."

"He forgot not his words, and did justice, by punishing the offender,"
said the undaunted daughter.

"Justice!" repeated the Indian, casting an oblique glance of the most
ferocious expression at her unyielding countenance; "is it justice to
make evil and then punish for it? Magua was not himself; it was the
fire-water that spoke and acted for him! but Munro did beli