And,
moreover, venison can hardly be called in season now, and we do
not want for food. They call me Deerslayer, I'll own, and perhaps
I desarve the name, in the way of understanding the creatur's
habits, as well as for some sartainty in the aim, but they can't
accuse me of killing an animal when there is no occasion for the meat,
or the skin. I may be a slayer, it's true, but I'm no slaughterer."
"'Twas an awful mistake to miss that buck!" exclaimed Hurry, doffing
his cap and running his fingers through his handsome but matted
curls, as if he would loosen his tangled ideas by the process.
"I've not done so onhandy a thing since I was fifteen."
"Never lament it, as the creatur's death could have done neither
of us any good, and might have done us harm. Them echoes are more
awful in my ears, than your mistake, Hurry, for they sound like the
voice of natur' calling out ag'in a wasteful and onthinking action."
"You'll hear plenty of such calls, if you tarry long in this quarter
of the world, lad," returned the other laughing. "The echoes repeat
pretty much all that is said or done on the Glimmerglass, in this
calm summer weather. If a paddle falls you hear of it sometimes,
ag'in and ag'in, as if the hills were mocking your clumsiness, and
a laugh, or a whistle, comes out of them pines, when they're in
the humour to speak, in a way to make you believe they can r'ally
convarse.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91