hman's powder afore he broke
up, and they say lead grows where I'm going. It isn't even fit for
wads, seeing that I use none but leather! Madam Effingham, let an old
man kiss your hand, and wish God's choicest blessings on you and
your'n."

"Once more let me beseech you, stay!" cried Elizabeth. "Do not,
Leather-Stocking, leave me to grieve for the man who has twice rescued
me from death, and who has served those I love so faithfully. For my
sake, if not for your own, stay. I shall see you in those frightful
dreams that still haunt my nights, dying in poverty and age, by the
side of those terrific beasts you slew. There will be no evil that
sickness, want, and solitude can inflict that my fancy will not
conjure as your fate. Stay with us, old man, if not for your own sake,
at least for ours."

"Such thoughts and bitter dreams, Madam Effingham," returned the
hunter, solemnly, "will never haunt an innocent parson long. They'll
pass away with God's pleasure. And if the catamounts be yet brought to
your eyes in sleep, 'tis not for my sake, but to show you the power of
Him that led me there to save you. Trust in God, madam, and your
honorable husband, and the thoughts for an old man like me can never
be long nor bitter. I pray that the Lord will keep you in mind--the
Lord that lives in clearings as well as in the wilderness--and bless
you, and all that belong to you, from this time till the great day
when the whites shall meet the redskins in judgment, and justice shall
be the law, and not power."

Elizabeth raised her head, and offered her colorless cheek to his
salute, when he lifted his cap and touched it respectfully. His hand
was grasped with convulsive fervor by the youth, who continued silent.
The hunter prepared himself for his journey, drawing his belt tighter,
and wasting his moments in the little reluctant movements of a
sorrowful departure. Once or twice he essayed to speak, but a rising
in his throat prevented it. At length he shouldered his rifle, and
cried with a clear huntsman's call that echoed through the woods:

"He-e-e-re, he-e-e-re, pups--away, dogs, away; ye'll be footsore afore
ye see the ind of the journey!"

The hounds leapt from the earth at this cry, and scenting around the
graves and the silent pair, as if conscious of their own destination,
they followed humbly at the heels of their master. A short pause
succeeded, during which even the youth concealed his face on his
grandfather's tomb. Wh