ed in the behalf of Uncas. The
eyeballs of the Delaware seemed to start from their sockets; his mouth
opened, and his whole form became frozen in an attitude of amazement.
Raising his hand with a slow and regulated motion, he pointed with a
finger to the bosom of the captive. His companions crowded about him in
wonder, and every eye was, like his own, fastened intently on the figure
of a small tortoise, beautifully tattooed on the breast of the prisoner,
in a bright blue tint.

For a single instant Uncas enjoyed his triumph, smiling calmly on the
scene. Then motioning the crowd away with a high and haughty sweep of
his arm, he advanced in front of the nation with the air of a king, and
spoke in a voice louder than the murmur of admiration that ran through
the multitude.

"Men of the Lenni Lenape!" he said, "my race upholds the earth! Your
feeble tribe stands on my shell![27] What fire that a Delaware can light
would burn the child of my fathers," he added, pointing proudly to the
simple blazonry on his skin; "the blood that came from such a stock
would smother your flames! My race is the grandfather of nations!"

"Who art thou?" demanded Tamenund, rising at the startling tones he
heard, more than at any meaning conveyed by the language of the
prisoner.

"Uncas, the son of Chingachgook," answered the captive modestly, turning
from the nation, and bending his head in reverence to the other's
character and years; "a son of the great Unamis."

"The hour of Tamenund is nigh!" exclaimed the sage; "the day is come, at
last, to the night! I thank the Manitou, that one is here to fill my
place at the council-fire. Uncas, the child of Uncas, is found! Let the
eyes of a dying eagle gaze on the rising sun."

The youth stepped lightly, but proudly, on the platform, where he became
visible to the whole agitated and wondering multitude. Tamenund held him
long at the length of his arm, and read every turn in the fine
lineaments of his countenance, with the untiring gaze of one who
recalled days of happiness.

"Is Tamenund a boy?" at length the bewildered prophet exclaimed. "Have I
dreamt of so many snows--that my people were scattered like floating
sands--of Yengeese, more plenty than the leaves on the trees! The arrow
of Tamenund would not frighten the fawn; his arm is withered like the
branch of a dead oak; the snail would be swifter in the race; yet is
Uncas before him as they went to battle against the pale-faces! Uncas,
t