ndle, with as much
indifference as if he had not been absent two weary days on a long and
toilsome hunt. Ten minutes, which appeared so many ages to Duncan, might
have passed in this manner; and the warriors were fairly enveloped in a
cloud of white smoke before any of them spoke.

"Welcome!" one at length uttered; "has my friend found the moose?"

"The young men stagger under their burdens," returned Magua. "Let
'Reed-that-bends' go on the hunting path; he will meet them."

A deep and awful silence succeeded the utterance of the forbidden name.
Each pipe dropped from the lips of its owner as though all had inhaled
an impurity at the same instant. The smoke wreathed above their heads in
little eddies, and curling in a spiral form it ascended swiftly through
the opening in the roof of the lodge, leaving the place beneath clear of
its fumes, and each dark visage distinctly visible. The looks of most of
the warriors were riveted on the earth; though a few of the younger and
less gifted of the party suffered their wild and glaring eyeballs to
roll in the direction of a white-headed savage, who sat between two of
the most venerated chiefs of the tribe. There was nothing in the air
or attire of this Indian that would seem to entitle him to such a
distinction. The former was rather depressed, than remarkable for the
bearing of the natives; and the latter was such as was commonly worn
by the ordinary men of the nation. Like most around him for more than
a minute his look, too, was on the ground; but, trusting his eyes at
length to steal a glance aside, he perceived that he was becoming an
object of general attention. Then he arose and lifted his voice in the
general silence.

"It was a lie," he said; "I had no son. He who was called by that name
is forgotten; his blood was pale, and it came not from the veins of a
Huron; the wicked Chippewas cheated my squaw. The Great Spirit has said,
that the family of Wiss-entush should end; he is happy who knows that
the evil of his race dies with himself. I have done."

The speaker, who was the father of the recreant young Indian, looked
round and about him, as if seeking commendation of his stoicism in the
eyes of the auditors. But the stern customs of his people had made too
severe an exaction of the feeble old man. The expression of his eye
contradicted his figurative and boastful language, while every muscle in
his wrinkled visage was working with anguish. Standing a single minute