pour vous," exclaimed the young
soldier, touching his cap with grace; "mais--fortune de guerre! vous
trouverez notre general un brave homme, et bien poli avec les dames."

"C'est le caractere des gens de guerre," said Cora, with admirable
self-possession. "Adieu, mon ami; je vous souhaiterais un devoir plus
agreable a remplir."

The soldier made a low and humble acknowledgment for her civility; and
Heyward adding a "Bonne nuit, mon camarade," they moved deliberately
forward, leaving the sentinel pacing the banks of the silent pond,
little suspecting an enemy of so much effrontery, and humming to himself
those words which were recalled to his mind by the sight of women, and,
perhaps, by recollections of his own distant and beautiful France: "Vive
le vin, vive l'amour," etc., etc.

"'Tis well you understood the knave!" whispered the scout, when they had
gained a little distance from the place, and letting his rifle fall into
the hollow of his arm again; "I soon saw that he was one of them uneasy
Frenchers; and well for him it was that his speech was friendly and his
wishes kind, or a place might have been found for his bones among those
of his countrymen."

He was interrupted by a long and heavy groan which arose from the little
basin, as though, in truth, the spirits of the departed lingered about
their watery sepulcher.

"Surely it was of flesh," continued the scout; "no spirit could handle
its arms so steadily."

"It was of flesh; but whether the poor fellow still belongs to this
world may well be doubted," said Heyward, glancing his eyes around him,
and missing Chingachgook from their little band. Another groan more
faint than the former was succeeded by a heavy and sullen plunge into
the water, and all was still again as if the borders of the dreary pool
had never been awakened from the silence of creation. While they yet
hesitated in uncertainty, the form of the Indian was seen gliding out of
the thicket. As the chief rejoined them, with one hand he attached the
reeking scalp of the unfortunate young Frenchman to his girdle, and with
the other he replaced the knife and tomahawk that had drunk his blood.
He then took his wonted station, with the air of a man who believed he
had done a deed of merit.

The scout dropped one end of his rifle to the earth, and leaning his
hands on the other, he stood musing in profound silence. Then, shaking
his head in a mournful manner, he muttered:

"'Twould have been a cru