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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Deerslayer"

Here all in the camp
were collected, some six or eight carrying torches of fat-pine,
which cast a strong but funereal light on all beneath the arches of
the forest. With her back supported against a tree, and sustained
on one side by the young sentinel whose remissness had suffered
Hetty to escape, sat the female whose expected visit had produced
his delinquency. By the glare of the torch that was held near her
face, it was evident that she was in the agonies of death, while
the blood that trickled from her bared bosom betrayed the nature
of the injury she had received. The pungent, peculiar smell
of gunpowder, too, was still quite perceptible in the heavy, damp
night air. There could be no question that she had been shot.
Judith understood it all at a glance. The streak of light had
appeared on the water a short distance from the point, and either the
rifle had been discharged from a canoe hovering near the land, or
it had been fired from the ark in passing. An incautious exclamation,
or laugh, may have produced the assault, for it was barely possible
that the aim had been assisted by any other agent than sound. As
to the effect, that was soon still more apparent, the head of
the victim dropping, and the body sinking in death.


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