. Howsever, come what will, the Sarpent and his
wife will be safe, and that is some happiness in any case."

"Oh! Deerslayer, they will think better of this, since they have given
you until to-morrow noon to make up your mind!"

"I judge not, Judith; yes, I judge not. An Injin is an Injin, gal, and
it's pretty much hopeless to think of swarving him, when he's got the
scent and follows it with his nose in the air. The Delawares, now, are a
half Christianized tribe--not that I think such sort of Christians much
better than your whole blooded onbelievers--but, nevertheless, what good
half Christianizing can do to a man, some among 'em have got, and yet
revenge clings to their hearts like the wild creepers here to the tree!
Then, I slew one of the best and boldest of their warriors, they say,
and it is too much to expect that they should captivate the man who did
this deed, in the very same scouting on which it was performed, and
they take no account of the matter. Had a month, or so, gone by, their
feelin's would have been softened down, and we might have met in a more
friendly way, but it is as it is. Judith, this is talking of nothing but
myself, and my own consarns, when you have had trouble enough, and may
want to consult a fri'nd a little about your own matters. Is the old man
laid in the water, where I should think his body would like to rest?"

"It is, Deerslayer," answered Judith, almost inaudibly. "That duty has
just been performed. You are right in thinking that I wish to consult a
friend; and that friend is yourself. Hurry Harry is about to leave us;
when he is gone, and we have got a little over the feelings of this
solemn office, I hope you will give me an hour alone. Hetty and I are at
a loss what to do."

"That's quite nat'ral, coming as things have, suddenly and fearfully.
But here's the Ark, and we'll say more of this when there is a better
opportunity."

Chapter XXIII.

"The winde is great upon the highest hilles;
The quiet life is in the dale below;
Who tread on ice shall slide against their willes;
They want not cares, that curious arts should know.
Who lives at ease and can content him so,
Is perfect wise, and sets us all to schoole:
Who hates this lore may well be called a foole."

Thomas Churchyard, "Shore's Wife," xlvii.

The meeting between Deerslayer and his friends in the Ark was grave and
anxious. The two Indians, in particular, read in his manner