But, suddenly recollecting herself, she turned away
from her sister, as if in pity for her weakness and addressed the
young man.
"You've told but half your story," she said, "breaking off at the
place where you went to sleep in the canoe - or rather where you
rose to listen to the cry of the loon. We heard the call of the
loons, too, and thought their cries might bring a storm, though
we are little used to tempests on this lake at this season of the
year."
"The winds blow and the tempests howl as God pleases; sometimes at
one season, and sometimes at another," answered Deerslayer; "and
the loons speak accordin' to their natur'. Better would it be if
men were as honest and frank. After I rose to listen to the birds,
finding it could not be Hurry's signal, I lay down and slept. When
the day dawned I was up and stirring, as usual, and then I went in
chase of the two canoes, lest the Mingos should lay hands on 'em."
"You have not told us all, Deerslayer," said Judith earnestly. "We
heard rifles under the eastern mountain; the echoes were full and
long, and came so soon after the reports, that the pieces must
have been fired on or quite near to the shore. Our ears are used
to these signs, and are not to be deceived.
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