or
which his soul panted--not that he might eat it himself, but bestow it
upon his famished wife and sick babe. Listen!

"There was a little maiden sitting at the door of the cabin--she was
not grown to womanhood, nor dreamed yet of tender lovers--she was a
fawn in its second season, a tree wanting but a few more suns to be
clothed with the blossoms of maturity. By her side sat a boy, who
might be two or three harvests older. The little maiden rose from the
smooth sward where she sat, and throwing her white arms around the
neck of her father, begged hard for the strangers. The boy came, and
joined her in her prayers. The hardhearted man granted to the
entreaties of his children what compassion would not bestow. The
Indian was fed--his wife was fed--his babe was fed. Dost thou hear?"

"I hear," said the delighted hunter, grasping the hand of the noble
warrior, while tears streamed down his sun-burnt cheek.

"That boy was the prisoner, whom the Pequods, four suns since, carried
away from yonder vale--and the famished hunter was he who unbound thy
limbs, and who saved that compassionate maiden, by the song he poured
into the ears of his brothers, of an angry spirit, seen by the light
of the blazing cabin among the boughs of the chesnut-tree.

"Learn, pale face, that an Indian can be grateful. A crust of bread,
and a draught of water, bestowed upon the red man, or those he loves,
weigh down the memory of a thousand wrongs--a kind look dispels the
frown from his brow--a kind word checks the purpose of vengeance,
which, unchecked, is like a fire carried by a high wind to a field of
dry grass. Thou and thine did me a deed of kindness--preserved the
life of her whose bright eyes are the light of my cabin--and of the
boy who will, one day, bend the bow of a hunter, and be taught to
utter the cry of vengeance on the hills--fear not, thou art safe in
the land whence his fathers were banished. Thou and thine did this for
the Son of Annawan, the Fleet Foot of his tribe, and he will never
forget it--till the stars forget to shine, and the moon to become the
lamp of the dark hours. Say, in the ears of the Fair Hair that I gave
her cabin to the devouring flames, before I knew it was hers. But the
season will soon come when the beaver will be sleek and glossy; and an
otter worth more than an arrow--the spoils of the Fleet Foot's winter
hunt shall rebuild the cabin of the flower of the the pale faces."

So saying, the Son of Annawan