I am of a Christian stock, and scalping is not of my gifts. I'll
just make sartain of your rifle, and then come back and do you
what sarvice I can. Though here I can't stay much longer, as the
crack of three rifles will be apt to bring some of your devils down
upon me."
The close of this was said in a sort of a soliloquy, as the young
man went in quest of the fallen rifle. The piece was found where
its owner had dropped it, and was immediately put into the canoe.
Laying his own rifle at its side, Deerslayer then returned and
stood over the Indian again.
"All inmity atween you and me's at an ind red-skin," he said; "and
you may set your heart at rest on the score of the scalp, or any
further injury. My gifts are white, as I've told you; and I hope
my conduct will be white also."
Could looks have conveyed all they meant, it is probable Deerslayer's
innocent vanity on the subject of color would have been rebuked
a little; but he comprehended the gratitude that was expressed in
the eyes of the dying savage, without in the least detecting the
bitter sarcasm that struggled with the better feeling.
"Water!" ejaculated the thirsty and unfortunate creature; "give
poor Injin water.
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