and nothing else, as I understand it."

"They are very obliging and thoughtful, in supposing a young woman can
forget all her own inclinations in order to let this unhappy youth find
his!" said Judith, ironically; though her manner became more bitter as
she proceeded. "I suppose a woman is a woman, let her colour be white,
or red, and your chiefs know little of a woman's heart, Deerslayer,
if they think it can ever forgive when wronged, or ever forget when it
fairly loves."

"I suppose that's pretty much the truth with some women, Judith, though
I've known them that could do both. The next message is to you. They say
the Muskrat, as they called your father, has dove to the bottom of the
lake; that he will never come up again, and that his young will soon
be in want of wigwams if not of food. The Huron huts, they think, are
better than the huts of York, and they wish you to come and try them.
Your colour is white, they own, but they think young women who've lived
so long in the woods would lose their way in the clearin's. A great
warrior among them has lately lost his wife, and he would be glad to put
the Wild Rose on her bench at his fireside. As for the Feeble Mind, she
will always be honored and taken care of by red warriors. Your father's
goods they think ought to go to enrich the tribe, but your own property,
which is to include everything of a female natur', will go like that
of all wives, into the wigwam of the husband. Moreover, they've lost a
young maiden by violence, lately, and 'twill take two pale-faces to fill
her seat."

"And do you bring such a message to me," exclaimed Judith, though the
tone in which the words were uttered had more in it of sorrow than of
anger. "Am I a girl to be an Indian's slave?"

"If you wish my honest thoughts on this p'int, Judith, I shall answer
that I don't think you'll, willingly, ever become any man's slave;
red-skin or white. You're not to think hard, howsever, of my bringing
the message, as near as I could, in the very words in which it was given
to me. Them was the conditions on which I got my furlough, and a bargain
is a bargain, though it is made with a vagabond. I've told you what
they've said, but I've not yet told you what I think you ought, one and
all, to answer."

"Ay; let's hear that, Deerslayer," put in Hurry. "My cur'osity is up on
that consideration, and I should like, right well, to hear your idees
of the reasonableness of the reply. For my part, though,