ohican maintained his firm and haughty attitude;
and his eye, so far from deigning to meet her inquisitive look, dwelt
steadily on the distance, as though it penetrated the obstacles which
impeded the view, and looked into futurity. Satisfied with her
examination, she left him, with a slight expression of pleasure, and
proceeded to practise the same trying experiment on her delinquent
countryman.

The young Huron was in his war paint, and very little of a finely
moulded form was concealed by his attire. The light rendered every limb
and joint discernible, and Duncan turned away in horror when he saw they
were writhing in irrepressible agony. The woman was commencing a low and
plaintive howl at the sad and shameful spectacle, when the chief put
forth his hand and gently pushed her aside.

"Reed-that-bends," he said, addressing the young culprit by name, and in
his proper language, "though the Great Spirit has made you pleasant to
the eyes, it would have been better that you had not been born. Your
tongue is loud in the village, but in battle it is still. None of my
young men strike the tomahawk deeper into the war-post--none of them so
lightly on the Yengeese. The enemy know the shape of your back, but they
have never seen the color of your eyes. Three times have they called on
you to come, and as often did you forget to answer. Your name will never
be mentioned again in your tribe--it is already forgotten."

As the chief slowly uttered these words, pausing impressively between
each sentence, the culprit raised his face, in deference to the other's
rank and years. Shame, horror, and pride struggled in its lineaments.
His eye, which was contracted with inward anguish, gleamed on the
persons of those whose breath was his fame; and the latter emotion for
an instant predominated. He arose to his feet, and baring his bosom,
looked steadily on the keen, glittering knife, that was already upheld
by his inexorable judge. As the weapon passed slowly into his heart he
even smiled, as if in joy at having found death less dreadful than he
had anticipated, and fell heavily on his face, at the feet of the rigid
and unyielding form of Uncas.

The squaw gave a loud and plaintive yell, dashed the torch to the earth,
and buried everything in darkness. The whole shuddering group of
spectators glided from the lodge, like troubled sprites; and Duncan
thought that he and the yet throbbing body of the victim of an Indian
judgment had now b