e me the strong
places of the wilderness, which is the trees, and the churches, too,
which are arbors raised by the hand of natur'."

"Woman is not made for scenes like these, Deerslayer, scenes of which we
shall have no end, as long as this war lasts."

"If you mean women of white colour, I rather think you're not far from
the truth, gal; but as for the females of the redmen, such visitations
are quite in character. Nothing would make Hist, now, the bargained
wife of yonder Delaware, happier than to know that he is at this moment
prowling around his nat'ral inimies, striving after a scalp."

"Surely, surely, Deerslayer, she cannot be a woman, and not feel concern
when she thinks the man she loves is in danger!"

"She doesn't think of the danger, Judith, but of the honor; and when the
heart is desperately set on such feelin's, why, there is little room to
crowd in fear. Hist is a kind, gentle, laughing, pleasant creatur', but
she loves honor, as well as any Delaware gal I ever know'd. She's to
meet the Sarpent an hour hence, on the p'int where Hetty landed, and no
doubt she has her anxiety about it, like any other woman; but she'd be
all the happier did she know that her lover was at this moment waylaying
a Mingo for his scalp."

"If you really believe this, Deerslayer, no wonder you lay so much
stress on gifts. Certain am I, that no white girl could feel anything
but misery while she believed her betrothed in danger of his life! Nor
do I suppose even you, unmoved and calm as you ever seem to be, could be
at peace if you believed your Hist in danger."

"That's a different matter--'tis altogether a different matter, Judith.
Woman is too weak and gentle to be intended to run such risks, and man
must feel for her. Yes, I rather think that's as much red natur' as it's
white. But I have no Hist, nor am I like to have; for I hold it wrong to
mix colours, any way except in friendship and sarvices."

"In that you are and feel as a white man should! As for Hurry Harry, I
do think it would be all the same to him whether his wife were a squaw
or a governor's daughter, provided she was a little comely, and could
help to keep his craving stomach full."

"You do March injustice, Judith; yes, you do. The poor fellow dotes
on you, and when a man has ra'ally set his heart on such a creatur' it
isn't a Mingo, or even a Delaware gal, that'll be likely to unsettle
his mind. You may laugh at such men as Hurry and I, for we're rough