of the Manitou. His services were
soon required by the officers of the crown, and he especially attached
himself in the field to one in particular, with whose after life he had
a close and important connection.

Fifteen years had passed away, ere it was in the power of the Deerslayer
to revisit the Glimmerglass. A peace had intervened, and it was on the
eve of another and still more important war, when he and his constant
friend, Chingachgook, were hastening to the forts to join their allies.
A stripling accompanied them, for Hist already slumbered beneath
the pines of the Delawares, and the three survivors had now become
inseparable. They reached the lake just as the sun was setting. Here all
was unchanged. The river still rushed through its bower of trees; the
little rock was washing away, by the slow action of the waves, in the
course of centuries, the mountains stood in their native dress, dark,
rich and mysterious, while the sheet glistened in its solitude, a
beautiful gem of the forest.

The following morning, the youth discovered one of the canoes drifted
on the shore, in a state of decay. A little labor put it in a state for
service, and they all embarked, with a desire to examine the place. All
the points were passed, and Chingachgook pointed out to his son the
spot where the Hurons had first encamped, and the point whence he had
succeeded in stealing his bride. Here they even landed, but all traces
of the former visit had disappeared. Next they proceeded to the scene of
the battle, and there they found a few of the signs that linger around
such localities. Wild beasts had disinterred many of the bodies, and
human bones were bleaching in the rains of summer. Uncas regarded all
with reverence and pity, though traditions were already rousing his
young mind to the ambition and sternness of a warrior.

From the point, the canoe took its way toward the shoal, where the
remains of the castle were still visible, a picturesque ruin. The storms
of winter had long since unroofed the house, and decay had eaten into
the logs. All the fastenings were untouched, but the seasons rioted
in the place, as if in mockery at the attempt to exclude them. The
palisades were rotting, as were the piles, and it was evident that a few
more recurrences of winter, a few more gales and tempests, would
sweep all into the lake, and blot the building from the face of that
magnificent solitude. The graves could not be found. Either the elemen