oceeded
from distrust of himself, as a compliment, and made a gesture of
acquiescence, well content that his veracity should be supported by so
skilful a marksman as the scout. The weapons were instantly placed in
the hands of the friendly opponents, and they were bid to fire over the
heads of the seated multitude at an earthen vessel, which lay, by
accident, on a stump some fifty yards from the place where they stood.

Heyward smiled to himself at the idea of a competition with the scout,
though he determined to persevere in the deception, until apprised of
the real designs of Magua. Raising his rifle with the utmost care, and
renewing his aim three several times, he fired. The bullet cut the wood
within a few inches of the vessel; and a general exclamation of
satisfaction announced that the shot was considered a proof of great
skill in the use of the weapon. Even Hawkeye nodded his head, as if he
would say, it was better than he had expected. But, instead of
manifesting an intention to contend with the successful marksman, he
stood leaning on his rifle for more than a minute, like a man who was
completely buried in thought. From this reverie he was, however,
awakened by one of the young Indians who had furnished the arms, and who
now touched his shoulder, saying, in exceedingly broken English,--

"Can the pale-face beat it?"

"Yes, Huron!" exclaimed the scout, raising the short rifle in his right
hand, and shaking it at Magua, with as much apparent ease as if it were
a reed; "yes, Huron, I could strike you now, and no power of earth could
prevent the deed! The soaring hawk is not more certain of the dove than
I am this moment of you, did I choose to send a bullet to your heart!
Why should I not? Why!--because the gifts of my color forbid it, and I
might draw down evil on tender and innocent heads. If you know such a
being as God, thank Him, therefore, in your inward soul; for you have
reason."

The flushed countenance, angry eye, and swelling figure of the scout,
produced a sensation of secret awe in all that heard him. The Delawares
held their breath in expectation; but Magua himself, even while he
distrusted the forbearance of his enemy, remained immovable and calm,
where he stood wedged in by the crowd, as one who grew to the spot.

"Beat it," replied the young Delaware at the elbow of the scout.

"Beat what, fool!--what!" exclaimed Hawkeye, still flourishing the
weapon angrily above his head, though his eye