eyes would plainly tell you that a carrion crow is a better
bird than a mocking thresher. The one will, at least, remove foul sights
from before the face of man, while the other is only good to brew
disturbances in the woods, by cheating the ears of all that hear them."

"Arms and the clarion for the battle, but the song of thanksgiving to
the victory!" answered the liberated David. "Friend," he added,
thrusting forth his lean, delicate hand towards Hawkeye, in kindness,
while his eyes twinkled and grew moist, "I thank thee that the hairs of
my head still grow where they were first rooted by Providence; for,
though those of other men may be more glossy and curling, I have ever
found mine own well suited to the brain they shelter. That I did not
join myself to the battle, was less owing to disinclination, than to the
bonds of the heathen. Valiant and skilful hast thou proved thyself in
the conflict, and I hereby thank thee, before proceeding to discharge
other and more important duties, because thou hast proved thyself well
worthy of a Christian's praise."

"The thing is but a trifle, and what you may often see, if you tarry
long among us," returned the scout, a good deal softened towards the
man of song, by this unequivocal expression of gratitude. "I have got
back my old companion, 'Killdeer,'" he added, striking his hand on the
breech of his rifle; "and that in itself is a victory. These Iroquois
are cunning, but they outwitted themselves when they placed their
fire-arms out of reach; and had Uncas or his father been gifted with
only their common Indian patience, we should have come in upon the
knaves with three bullets instead of one, and that would have made a
finish of the whole pack; yon loping varlet, as well as his commerades.
But 'twas all foreordered, and for the best."

"Thou sayest well," returned David, "and hast caught the true spirit of
Christianity. He that is to be saved will be saved, and he that is
predestined to be damned will be damned. This is the doctrine of truth,
and most consoling and refreshing it is to the true believer."

The scout, who by this time was seated, examining into the state of his
rifle with a species of parental assiduity, now looked up at the other
in a displeasure that he did not affect to conceal, roughly interrupting
further speech.

"Doctrine, or no doctrine," said the sturdy woodsman, "'tis the belief
of knaves, and the curse of an honest man. I can credit that yonder