the presence of the Great
Spirit of my people. He knows my colour, and according to my gifts will
he judge my deeds."

"My father will tell my young men, how many Mingoes he has struck, and
what acts of valour and justice he has done, that they may know how to
imitate him."

"A boastful tongue is not heard in the heaven of a white man," solemnly
returned the old man. "What I have done, He has seen. His eyes are
always open. That, which has been well done, will He remember; wherein
I have been wrong will He not forget to chastise, though He will do the
same in mercy. No, my son; a Pale-face may not sing his own praises, and
hope to have them acceptable before his God."

A little disappointed, the young partisan stepped modestly back, making
way for the recent comers to approach. Middleton took one of the meagre
hands of the trapper, and struggling to command his voice, he succeeded
in announcing his presence. The old man listened like one whose thoughts
were dwelling on a very different subject, but when the other had
succeeded in making him understand, that he was present, an expression
of joyful recognition passed over his faded features--"I hope you have
not so soon forgotten those, whom you so materially served!" Middleton
concluded. "It would pain me to think my hold on your memory was so
light."

"Little that I have ever seen is forgotten," returned the trapper: "I
am at the close of many weary days, but there is not one among them all,
that I could wish to overlook. I remember you with the whole of your
company; ay, and your grand'ther, that went before you. I am glad, that
you have come back upon these plains, for I had need of one, who speaks
the English, since little faith can be put in the traders of these
regions. Will you do a favour to an old and dying man?"

"Name it," said Middleton; "it shall be done."

"It is a far journey to send such trifles," resumed the old man, who
spoke at short intervals, as strength and breath permitted; "a far and
weary journey is the same; but kindnesses and friendships are things not
to be forgotten. There is a settlement among the Otsego hills--"

"I know the place," interrupted Middleton, observing that he spoke with
increasing difficulty; "proceed to tell me, what you would have done."

"Take this rifle, and pouch, and horn, and send them to the person,
whose name is graven on the plates of the stock,--a trader cut the
letters with his knife,--for it is long, that