thought he
still saw signs of being able to save the life of the captive when the
vanity of the young men had been gratified; always admitting that it was
not sacrificed to the delicate experiments that were about to be made.
The first youth who presented himself for the trial was called The
Raven, having as yet had no opportunity of obtaining a more warlike
sobriquet. He was remarkable for high pretension, rather than for skill
or exploits, and those who knew his character thought the captive
in imminent danger when he took his stand, and poised the tomahawk.
Nevertheless, the young man was good natured, and no thought was
uppermost in his mind other than the desire to make a better cast than
any of his fellows. Deerslayer got an inkling of this warrior's want
of reputation by the injunctions that he had received from the seniors,
who, indeed, would have objected to his appearing in the arena, at all,
but for an influence derived from his father; an aged warrior of
great merit, who was then in the lodges of the tribe. Still, our hero
maintained an appearance of self-possession. He had made up his mind
that his hour was come, and it would have been a mercy, instead of a
calamity, to fall by the unsteadiness of the first hand that was raised
against him. After a suitable number of flourishes and gesticulations
that promised much more than he could perform, the Raven let the
tomahawk quit his hand. The weapon whirled through the air with the
usual evolutions, cut a chip from the sapling to which the prisoner was
bound within a few inches of his cheek, and stuck in a large oak that
grew several yards behind him. This was decidedly a bad effort, and a
common sneer proclaimed as much, to the great mortification of the young
man. On the other hand, there was a general but suppressed murmur of
admiration at the steadiness with which the captive stood the trial. The
head was the only part he could move, and this had been purposely left
free, that the tormentors might have the amusement, and the tormented
endure the shame, of his dodging, and otherwise attempting to avoid the
blows. Deerslayer disappointed these hopes by a command of nerve that
rendered his whole body as immovable as the tree to which he was bound.
Nor did he even adopt the natural and usual expedient of shutting his
eyes, the firmest and oldest warrior of the red-men never having more
disdainfully denied himself this advantage under similar circumstances.

The