"God has put me in your hands, Huron," the captive at length answered,
"and I suppose you will act your will on me. I shall not boast of
what I can do, under torment, for I've never been tried, and no man
can say till he has been; but I'll do my endivours not to disgrace
the people among whom I got my training. Howsever, I wish you
now to bear witness that I'm altogether of white blood, and, in a
nat'ral way of white gifts too; so, should I be overcome and forget
myself, I hope you'll lay the fault where it properly belongs, and
in no manner put it on the Delawares, or their allies and friends
the Mohicans. We're all created with more or less weakness, and
I'm afeard it's a pale-face's to give in under great bodily torment,
when a red-skin will sing his songs, and boast of his deeds in the
very teeth of his foes."
"We shall see. Hawkeye has a good countenance, and he is tough
-but why should he be tormented, when the Hurons love him? He is
not born their enemy, and the death of one warrior will not cast
a cloud between them forever."
"So much the better, Huron; so much the better. Still I don't wish
to owe any thing to a mistake about each other's meaning.
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