The
Bounding Boy skipped about in front of the captive, menacing him
with his tomahawk, now on one side and now on another, and then
again in front, in the vain hope of being able to extort some sign
of fear by this parade of danger. At length Deerslayer's patience
became exhausted by all this mummery, and he spoke for the first
time since the trial had actually commenced.
"Throw away, Huron," he cried, "or your tomahawk will forget its
ar'n'd. Why do you keep loping about like a fa'a'n that's showing
its dam how well it can skip, when you're a warrior grown, yourself,
and a warrior grown defies you and all your silly antiks. Throw,
or the Huron gals will laugh in your face."
Although not intended to produce such an effect, the last words
aroused the "Bounding" warrior to fury. The same nervous excitability
which rendered him so active in his person, made it difficult to
repress his feelings, and the words were scarcely past the lips
of the speaker than the tomahawk left the hand of the Indian. Nor
was it cast without ill-will, and a fierce determination to slay.
Had the intention been less deadly, the danger might have been
greater. The aim was uncertain, and the weapon glanced near the
cheek of the captive, slightly cutting the shoulder in its evolutions.
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