"No one knows Chingachgook but Wah, and a treaty for lives and
scalps should be made by a chief. Give me the strange beasts, and
let me take a canoe."
Deerslayer dropped his head and played with the end of a fish-pole
in the water, as he sat dangling his legs over the edge of the
platform, like a man who was lost in thought by the sudden occurrence
of a novel idea. Instead of directly answering the proposal of
his friend, he began to soliloquize, a circumstance however that
in no manner rendered his words more true, as he was remarkable
for saying what he thought, whether the remarks were addressed to
himself, or to any one else.
"Yes - yes -" he said - "this must be what they call love! I've
heard say that it sometimes upsets reason altogether, leaving a
young man as helpless, as to calculation and caution, as a brute
beast. To think that the Sarpent should be so lost to reason, and
cunning, and wisdom! We must sartainly manage to get Hist off,
and have 'em married as soon as we get back to the tribe, or this
war will be of no more use to the chief, than a hunt a little
oncommon extr'ornary. Yes - Yes - he'll never be the man he was,
till this matter is off his mind, and he comes to his senses like
all the rest of mankind.
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