"
"Good. That is what I want the pale-face to do."
"Yes - yes - That's plain enough. I know what you want me to do,
without more words. When inside the house, and eating the Muskrat's
bread, and laughing and talking with his pretty darters, I might
put his eyes into so thick a fog, that he couldn't even see the
door, much less the land."
"Good! Hawkeye should have been born a Huron! His blood is not
more than half white!"
"There you're out, Huron; yes, there you're as much out, as if you
mistook a wolf for a catamount. I'm white in blood, heart, natur'
and gifts, though a little red-skin in feelin's and habits. But
when old Hutter's eyes are well befogged, and his pretty darters
perhaps in a deep sleep, and Hurry Harry, the Great Pine as you
Indians tarm him, is dreaming of any thing but mischief, and all
suppose Hawkeye is acting as a faithful sentinel, all I have to
do is set a torch somewhere in sight for a signal, open the door,
and let in the Hurons, to knock 'em all on the head."
"Surely my brother is mistaken. He cannot be white! He is worthy
to be a great chief among the Hurons!"
"That is true enough, I dares to say, if he could do all this.
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