what Christian usages demand of
my colour and gifts, I hope to live and die in their tribe. Still I do
not mean to throw away altogether my natyve rights, and shall strive to
do a pale-face's duty, in red-skin society."

"Good; a Huron is a red-skin, as well as a Delaware. Hawkeye is more of
a Huron than of a woman."

"I suppose you know, Mingo, your own meaning; if you don't I make no
question 'tis well known to Satan. But if you wish to get any thing
out of me, speak plainer, for bargains can not be made blindfolded, or
tongue tied."

"Good; Hawkeye has not a forked tongue, and he likes to say what he
thinks. He is an acquaintance of the Muskrat," this was the name by
which all the Indians designated Hutter--"and has lived in his wigwam.
But he is not a friend. He wants no scalps, like a miserable Indian, but
fights like a stout-hearted pale-face. The Muskrat is neither white, nor
red. Neither a beast nor a fish. He is a water snake; sometimes in the
spring and sometimes on the land. He looks for scalps, like an outcast.
Hawkeye can go back and tell him how he has outwitted the Hurons, how he
has escaped, and when his eyes are in a fog, when he can't see as far
as from his cabin to the shore, then Hawkeye can open the door for the
Hurons. And how will the plunder be divided? Why, Hawkeye, will carry
away the most, and the Hurons will take what he may choose to leave
behind him. The scalps can go to Canada, for a pale-face has no
satisfaction in them."

"Well, well, Rivenoak--for so I hear 'em tarm you--This is plain
English, enough, though spoken in Iroquois. I understand all you mean,
now, and must say it out-devils even Mingo deviltry! No doubt, 'twould
be easy enough to go back and tell the Muskrat that I had got away from
you, and gain some credit, too, by the expl'ite."

"Good. That is what I want the pale-face to do."

"Yes--yes--That's plain enough. I know what you want me to do, without
more words. When inside the house, and eating the Muskrat's bread, and
laughing and talking with his pretty darters, I might put his eyes into
so thick a fog, that he couldn't even see the door, much less the land."

"Good! Hawkeye should have been born a Huron! His blood is not more than
half white!"

"There you're out, Huron; yes, there you're as much out, as if you
mistook a wolf for a catamount. I'm white in blood, heart, natur' and
gifts, though a little red-skin in feelin's and habits. But when old
Hutter's eyes