ng Tamenund to look about him doubtingly, one of his companions
said:

"It is a snake--a red-skin in the pay of the Yengeese. We keep him for
the torture."

"Let him come," returned the sage.

Then Tamenund once more sank into his seat, and a silence so deep
prevailed while the young man prepared to obey his simple mandate, that
the leaves, which fluttered in the draught of the light morning air,
were distinctly heard rustling in the surrounding forest.

CHAPTER 30

"If you deny me, fie upon your law!
There is no force in the decrees of Venice:
I stand for judgment: answer, shall I have it?"
--Merchant of Venice

The silence continued unbroken by human sounds for many anxious minutes.
Then the waving multitude opened and shut again, and Uncas stood in the
living circle. All those eyes, which had been curiously studying the
lineaments of the sage, as the source of their own intelligence, turned
on the instant, and were now bent in secret admiration on the erect,
agile, and faultless person of the captive. But neither the presence in
which he found himself, nor the exclusive attention that he attracted,
in any manner disturbed the self-possession of the young Mohican. He
cast a deliberate and observing look on every side of him, meeting
the settled expression of hostility that lowered in the visages of
the chiefs with the same calmness as the curious gaze of the attentive
children. But when, last in this haughty scrutiny, the person of
Tamenund came under his glance, his eye became fixed, as though all
other objects were already forgotten. Then, advancing with a slow and
noiseless step up the area, he placed himself immediately before the
footstool of the sage. Here he stood unnoted, though keenly observant
himself, until one of the chiefs apprised the latter of his presence.

"With what tongue does the prisoner speak to the Manitou?" demanded the
patriarch, without unclosing his eyes.

"Like his fathers," Uncas replied; "with the tongue of a Delaware."

At this sudden and unexpected annunciation, a low, fierce yell ran
through the multitude, that might not inaptly be compared to the growl
of the lion, as his choler is first awakened--a fearful omen of the
weight of his future anger. The effect was equally strong on the sage,
though differently exhibited. He passed a hand before his eyes, as if
to exclude the least evidence of so shameful a spectacle, while he
repeated, in his low, gu