"Why no? Delaware scalp sell for much as Mingo scalp. Governor no tell
difference. Wicked t'ing for pale-face to scalp. No his gifts, as the
good Deerslayer always tell me."

"And do you know the Deerslayer?" said Hetty, coloring with delight and
surprise; forgetting her regrets, at the moment, in the influence of
this new feeling. "I know him, too. He is now in the Ark, with Judith
and a Delaware who is called the Big Serpent. A bold and handsome
warrior is this Serpent, too!"

Spite of the rich deep colour that nature had bestowed on the Indian
beauty, the tell-tale blood deepened on her cheeks, until the blush gave
new animation and intelligence to her jet-black eyes. Raising a finger
in an attitude of warning, she dropped her voice, already so soft and
sweet, nearly to a whisper, as she continued the discourse.

"Chingachgook!" returned the Delaware girl, sighing out the harsh
name, in sounds so softly guttural, as to cause it to reach the ear in
melody--"His father, Uncas--great chief of the Mahicanni--next to old
Tamenund!--More as warrior, not so much gray hair, and less at Council
Fire. You know Serpent?"

"He joined us last evening, and was in the Ark with me, for two or three
hours before I left it. I'm afraid, Hist--" Hetty could not pronounce
the Indian name of her new friend, but having heard Deerslayer give her
this familiar appellation, she used it without any of the ceremony of
civilized life--"I'm afraid Hist, he has come after scalps, as well as
my poor father and Hurry Harry."

"Why he shouldn't--ha? Chingachgook red warrior--very red--scalp make
his honor--Be sure he take him."

"Then," said Hetty, earnestly, "he will be as wicked as any other. God
will not pardon in a red man, what he will not pardon in a white man.

"No true--" returned the Delaware girl, with a warmth that nearly
amounted to passion. "No true, I tell you! The Manitou smile and pleased
when he see young warrior come back from the war path, with two, ten,
hundred scalp on a pole! Chingachgook father take scalp--grandfather
take scalp--all old chief take scalp, and Chingachgook take as many
scalp as he can carry, himself."

"Then, Hist, his sleep of nights must be terrible to think of. No one
can be cruel, and hope to be forgiven."

"No cruel--plenty forgiven--" returned Wah-ta-Wah, stamping her little
foot on the stony strand, and shaking her head in a way to show how
completely feminine feeling, in one of its aspects, ha