She will take a man for a husband,
and not a fish."
"How do you know that, Catamount? how do you know that?" returned
Deerslayer laughing. "She has gone into the lake, you see, and
maybe she prefars a trout to a mongrel cat. As for war paths,
neither the Sarpent nor I have much exper'ence, we are ready to
own, but if you don't call this one, you must tarm it, what the
gals in the settlements tarm it, the high road to matrimony. Take
my advice, Catamount, and s'arch for a wife among the Huron women;
you'll never get one with a willing mind from among the Delawares."
Catamount's hand felt for his tomahawk, and when the fingers reached
the handle they worked convulsively, as if their owner hesitated
between policy and resentment. At this critical moment Rivenoak
approached, and by a gesture of authority, induced the young man
to retire, assuming his former position, himself, on the log at the
side of Deerslayer. Here he continued silent for a little time,
maintaining the grave reserve of an Indian chief.
"Hawkeye is right," the Iroquois at length began; "his sight is
so strong that he can see truth in a dark night, and our eyes have
been blinded. He is an owl, darkness hiding nothing from him.
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