"
"The pale-face - but my brother has a name? So great a warrior
would not have lived without a name?"
"Mingo," said the hunter, a little of the weakness of human nature
exhibiting itself in the glance of his eye, and the colour on his
cheek - "Mingo, your brave called me Hawkeye, I suppose on account
of a quick and sartain aim, when he was lying with his head in my
lap, afore his spirit started for the Happy Hunting Grounds."
"'Tis a good name! The hawk is sure of his blow. Hawkeye is not
a woman; why does he live with the Delawares?"
"I understand you, Mingo, but we look on all that as a sarcumvention
of some of your subtle devils, and deny the charge. Providence
placed me among the Delawares young, and, 'bating what Christian
usages demand of my colour and gifts, I hope to live and die in
their tribe. Still I do not mean to throw away altogether my natyve
rights, and shall strive to do a pale-face's duty, in red-skin
society."
"Good; a Huron is a red-skin, as well as a Delaware. Hawkeye is
more of a Huron than of a woman."
"I suppose you know, Mingo, your own meaning; if you don't I make
no question 'tis well known to Satan. But if you wish to get
any thing out of me, speak plainer, for bargains can not be made
blindfolded, or tongue tied.
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