than some brothers; and
yonder are others, for neither tree is a rarity in these woods. I fear
me, Hurry, you are better at trapping beaver and shooting bears, than
at leading on a blindish sort of a trail. Ha! there's what you wish to
find, a'ter all!"

"Now, Deerslayer, this is one of your Delaware pretensions, for hang me
if I see anything but these trees, which do seem to start up around us
in a most onaccountable and perplexing manner."

"Look this a way, Hurry--here, in a line with the black oak-don't
you see the crooked sapling that is hooked up in the branches of the
bass-wood, near it? Now, that sapling was once snow-ridden, and got
the bend by its weight; but it never straightened itself, and fastened
itself in among the bass-wood branches in the way you see. The hand of
man did that act of kindness for it."

"That hand was mine!" exclaimed Hurry; "I found the slender young
thing bent to the airth, like an unfortunate creatur' borne down by
misfortune, and stuck it up where you see it. After all, Deerslayer, I
must allow, you're getting to have an oncommon good eye for the woods!"

"'Tis improving, Hurry--'tis improving I will acknowledge; but 'tis only
a child's eye, compared to some I know. There's Tamenund, now, though
a man so old that few remember when he was in his prime, Tamenund lets
nothing escape his look, which is more like the scent of a hound than
the sight of an eye. Then Uncas, the father of Chingachgook, and the
lawful chief of the Mohicans, is another that it is almost hopeless to
pass unseen. I'm improving, I will allow--I'm improving, but far from
being perfect, as yet."

"And who is this Chingachgook, of whom you talk so much, Deerslayer!"
asked Hurry, as he moved off in the direction of the righted sapling; "a
loping red-skin, at the best, I make no question."

"Not so, Hurry, but the best of loping red-skins, as you call 'em. If he
had his rights, he would be a great chief; but, as it is, he is only
a brave and just-minded Delaware; respected, and even obeyed in some
things,'tis true, but of a fallen race, and belonging to a fallen
people. Ah! Harry March, 'twould warm the heart within you to sit in
their lodges of a winter's night, and listen to the traditions of the
ancient greatness and power of the Mohicans!"

"Harkee, fri'nd Nathaniel," said Hurry, stopping short to face his
companion, in order that his words might carry greater weight with them,
"if a man believed all that