ight
would burn the child of my fathers," he added, pointing proudly to the
simple blazonry on his skin; "the blood that came from such a stock
would smother your flames! My race is the grandfather of nations!"

"Who art thou?" demanded Tamenund, rising at the startling tones
he heard, more than at any meaning conveyed by the language of the
prisoner.

"Uncas, the son of Chingachgook," answered the captive modestly, turning
from the nation, and bending his head in reverence to the other's
character and years; "a son of the great Unamis."*

* Turtle.

"The hour of Tamenund is nigh!" exclaimed the sage; "the day is come,
at last, to the night! I thank the Manitou, that one is here to fill my
place at the council-fire. Uncas, the child of Uncas, is found! Let the
eyes of a dying eagle gaze on the rising sun."

The youth stepped lightly, but proudly on the platform, where he became
visible to the whole agitated and wondering multitude. Tamenund held him
long at the length of his arm and read every turn in the fine lineaments
of his countenance, with the untiring gaze of one who recalled days of
happiness.

"Is Tamenund a boy?" at length the bewildered prophet exclaimed. "Have
I dreamed of so many snows--that my people were scattered like floating
sands--of Yengeese, more plenty than the leaves on the trees! The arrow
of Tamenund would not frighten the fawn; his arm is withered like the
branch of a dead oak; the snail would be swifter in the race; yet is
Uncas before him as they went to battle against the pale faces! Uncas,
the panther of his tribe, the eldest son of the Lenape, the wisest
Sagamore of the Mohicans! Tell me, ye Delawares, has Tamenund been a
sleeper for a hundred winters?"

The calm and deep silence which succeeded these words sufficiently
announced the awful reverence with which his people received the
communication of the patriarch. None dared to answer, though all
listened in breathless expectation of what might follow. Uncas, however,
looking in his face with the fondness and veneration of a favored child,
presumed on his own high and acknowledged rank, to reply.

"Four warriors of his race have lived and died," he said, "since the
friend of Tamenund led his people in battle. The blood of the turtle has
been in many chiefs, but all have gone back into the earth from whence
they came, except Chingachgook and his son."

"It is true--it is true," returned the sage, a flash of recollection
de