eve it. The
Huron chief was tied up before all the pale-faced warriors, and whipped
like a dog."

Cora remained silent, for she knew not how to palliate this imprudent
severity on the part of her father in a manner to suit the comprehension
of an Indian.

"See!" continued Magua, tearing aside the slight calico that very
imperfectly concealed his painted breast; "here are scars given by
knives and bullets--of these a warrior may boast before his nation; but
the gray-head has left marks on the back of the Huron chief that he must
hide like a squaw, under this painted cloth of the whites."

"I had thought," resumed Cora, "that an Indian warrior was patient, and
that his spirit felt not and knew not the pain his body suffered."

"When the Chippewas tied Magua to the stake, and cut this gash," said
the other, laying his finger on a deep scar, "the Huron laughed in their
faces, and told them, Women struck so light! His spirit was then in the
clouds! But when he felt the blows of Munro, his spirit lay under the
birch. The spirit of a Huron is never drunk; it remembers forever!"

"But it may be appeased. If my father has done you this injustice, show
him how an Indian can forgive an injury, and take back his daughters.
You have heard from Major Heyward--"

Magua shook his head, forbidding the repetition of offers he so much
despised.

"What would you have?" continued Cora, after a most painful pause,
while the conviction forced itself on her mind that the too sanguine and
generous Duncan had been cruelly deceived by the cunning of the savage.

"What a Huron loves--good for good; bad for bad!"

"You would, then, revenge the injury inflicted by Munro on his helpless
daughters. Would it not be more like a man to go before his face, and
take the satisfaction of a warrior?"

"The arms of the pale faces are long, and their knives sharp!" returned
the savage, with a malignant laugh: "why should Le Renard go among the
muskets of his warriors, when he holds the spirit of the gray-head in
his hand?"

"Name your intention, Magua," said Cora, struggling with herself to
speak with steady calmness. "Is it to lead us prisoners to the woods, or
do you contemplate even some greater evil? Is there no reward, no means
of palliating the injury, and of softening your heart? At least, release
my gentle sister, and pour out all your malice on me. Purchase wealth
by her safety and satisfy your revenge with a single victim. The loss
of bo