he but
spent half the breath in prudent questions that he has blown away in
making a trumpet of his throat, we might have known how many warriors
they numbered. It is, altogether, a dangerous path we move in; for a
friend whose face is turned from you often bears a bloodier mind than
the enemy who seeks your scalp."

"Explain," said Duncan.

"'Tis a long and melancholy tradition, and one I little like to think
of; for it is not to be denied that the evil has been mainly done by men
with white skins. But it has ended in turning the tomahawk of brother
against brother, and brought the Mingo and the Delaware to travel in the
same path."

"You, then, suspect it is a portion of that people among whom Cora
resides?"

The scout nodded his head in assent, though he seemed anxious to waive
the further discussion of a subject that appeared painful. The impatient
Duncan now made several hasty and desperate propositions to attempt
the release of the sisters. Munro seemed to shake off his apathy, and
listened to the wild schemes of the young man with a deference that his
gray hairs and reverend years should have denied. But the scout, after
suffering the ardor of the lover to expend itself a little, found means
to convince him of the folly of precipitation, in a manner that would
require their coolest judgment and utmost fortitude.

"It would be well," he added, "to let this man go in again, as usual,
and for him to tarry in the lodges, giving notice to the gentle ones of
our approach, until we call him out, by signal, to consult. You know the
cry of a crow, friend, from the whistle of the whip-poor-will?"

"'Tis a pleasing bird," returned David, "and has a soft and melancholy
note! though the time is rather quick and ill-measured."

"He speaks of the wish-ton-wish," said the scout; "well, since you like
his whistle, it shall be your signal. Remember, then, when you hear the
whip-poor-will's call three times repeated, you are to come into the
bushes where the bird might be supposed--"

"Stop," interrupted Heyward; "I will accompany him."

"You!" exclaimed the astonished Hawkeye; "are you tired of seeing the
sun rise and set?"

"David is a living proof that the Hurons can be merciful."

"Ay, but David can use his throat, as no man in his senses would pervart
the gift."

"I too can play the madman, the fool, the hero; in short, any or
everything to rescue her I love. Name your objections no longer: I am
resolved."

H