"Hurons," he said, "this earth is very big. The Great Lakes are
big, too; there is room beyond them for the Iroquois; there is
room for the Delawares on this side. I am Chingachgook the Son
of Uncas; the kinsman of Tamenund. This is my betrothed; that
pale-face is my friend. My heart was heavy, when I missed him;
I followed him to your camp, to see that no harm happened to him.
All the Delaware girls are waiting for Wah; they wonder that she
stays away so long. Come, let us say farewell, and go on our path."
"Hurons, this is your mortal enemy, the Great Serpent of them you
hate!" cried Briarthorn. "If he escape, blood will be in your
moccasin prints, from this spot to the Canadas. I am all Huron!"
As the last words were uttered, the traitor cast his knife at the
naked breast of the Delaware. A quick movement of the arm, on the
part of Hist, who stood near, turned aside the blow, the dangerous
weapon burying its point in a pine. At the next instant, a similar
weapon glanced from the hand of the Serpent, and quivered in the
recreant's heart. A minute had scarcely elapsed from the moment
in which Chingachgook bounded into the circle, and that in which
Briarthorn fell, like a log, dead in his tracks.
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