in the darkness of the plain,
the young warrior was seemingly content to let his deeds speak for
themselves. It was, in fact, neither the moment nor the occasion for an
Indian to boast of his exploits; and it is probably that, had Heyward
neglected to inquire, not another syllable would, just then, have been
uttered on the subject.

"What has become of our enemy, Uncas?" demanded Duncan; "we heard your
rifle, and hoped you had not fired in vain."

The young chief removed a fold of his hunting skirt, and quietly
exposed the fatal tuft of hair, which he bore as the symbol of victory.
Chingachgook laid his hand on the scalp, and considered it for a moment
with deep attention. Then dropping it, with disgust depicted in his
strong features, he ejaculated:

"Oneida!"

"Oneida!" repeated the scout, who was fast losing his interest in the
scene, in an apathy nearly assimilated to that of his red associates,
but who now advanced in uncommon earnestness to regard the bloody badge.
"By the Lord, if the Oneidas are outlying upon the trail, we shall by
flanked by devils on every side of us! Now, to white eyes there is no
difference between this bit of skin and that of any other Indian, and
yet the Sagamore declares it came from the poll of a Mingo; nay, he even
names the tribe of the poor devil, with as much ease as if the scalp was
the leaf of a book, and each hair a letter. What right have Christian
whites to boast of their learning, when a savage can read a language
that would prove too much for the wisest of them all! What say you, lad,
of what people was the knave?"

Uncas raised his eyes to the face of the scout, and answered, in his
soft voice:

"Oneida."

"Oneida, again! when one Indian makes a declaration it is commonly true;
but when he is supported by his people, set it down as gospel!"

"The poor fellow has mistaken us for French," said Heyward; "or he would
not have attempted the life of a friend."

"He mistake a Mohican in his paint for a Huron! You would be as likely
to mistake the white-coated grenadiers of Montcalm for the scarlet
jackets of the Royal Americans," returned the scout. "No, no, the
sarpent knew his errand; nor was there any great mistake in the matter,
for there is but little love atween a Delaware and a Mingo, let their
tribes go out to fight for whom they may, in a white quarrel. For
that matter, though the Oneidas do serve his sacred majesty, who is
my sovereign lord and master, I shoul