more shifting his ground, when he found himself unable to
penetrate the caution of his companion. "I have brought gifts to my
brother. His nation would not go on the war-path because they did not
think it well; but their friends have remembered where they lived."

When he had thus announced his liberal intention, the crafty chief
arose, and gravely spread his presents before the dazzled eyes of his
hosts. They consisted principally of trinkets of little value, plundered
from the slaughtered females of William Henry. In the division of the
baubles the cunning Huron discovered no less art than in their
selection. While he bestowed those of greater value on the two most
distinguished warriors, one of whom was his host, he seasoned his
offerings to their inferiors with such well-timed and apposite
compliments, as left them no grounds of complaint. In short, the whole
ceremony contained such a happy blending of the profitable with the
flattering, that it was not difficult for the donor immediately to read
the effect of a generosity so aptly mingled with praise, in the eyes of
those he addressed.

This well-judged and politic stroke on the part of Magua was not without
instantaneous results. The Delawares lost their gravity in a much more
cordial expression; and the host, in particular, after contemplating his
own liberal share of the spoil for some moments with peculiar
gratification, repeated with strong emphasis, the words,--

"My brother is a wise chief. He is welcome!"

"The Hurons love their friends the Delawares," returned Magua. "Why
should they not? they are colored by the same sun, and their just men
will hunt in the same grounds after death. The redskins should be
friends, and look with open eyes on the white men. Has not my brother
scented spies in the woods?"

The Delaware, whose name in English signified "Hard Heart," an
appellation that the French had translated into "Le Coeur-dur," forgot
the obduracy of purpose, which had probably obtained him so significant
a title. His countenance grew very sensibly less stern, and now deigned
to answer more directly.

"There have been strange moccasins about my camp. They have been tracked
into my lodges."

"Did my brother beat out the dogs?" asked Magua, without adverting in
any manner to the former equivocation of the chief.

"It would not do. The stranger is always welcome to the children of the
Lenape."

"The stranger, but not the spy."

"Would the Yengees