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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Deerslayer"

I
have fell in with the inimy, and I suppose it may be said I've
fou't them, too."
An exclamation of delight and exultation escaped the Indian, and
then laying his hand eagerly on the arm of his friend, he asked if
there were any scalps taken.
"That I will maintain in the face of all the Delaware tribe, old
Tamenund, and your own father the great Uncas, as well as the rest,
is ag'in white gifts! My scalp is on my head, as you can see,
Sarpent, and that was the only scalp that was in danger, when one
side was altogether Christian and white."
"Did no warrior fall? - Deerslayer did not get his name by being
slow of sight, or clumsy with the rifle!"
"In that particular, chief, you're nearer reason, and therefore
nearer being right. I may say one Mingo fell."
"A chief!" demanded the other with startling vehemence.
"Nay, that's more than I know, or can say. He was artful, and
treacherous, and stout-hearted, and may well have gained popularity
enough with his people to be named to that rank. The man fou't
well, though his eye was'n't quick enough for one who had had his
schooling in your company, Delaware."
"My brother and friend struck the body?"
"That was uncalled for, seeing that the Mingo died in my arms.


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