riend with the light, noiseless
tread of an Indian.

"Come this-a-way, Sarpent, here more out of sight of the women,"
commenced the Deerslayer, "for I've several things to say that mustn't
so much as he suspected, much less overheard. You know too well
the natur' of furloughs and Mingos to have any doubts or misgivin's
consarnin' what is like to happen, when I get back to the camp. On them
two p'ints therefore, a few words will go a great way. In the first
place, chief, I wish to say a little about Hist, and the manner in which
you red men treat your wives. I suppose it's accordin' to the gifts of
your people that the women should work, and the men hunt; but there's
such a thing as moderation in all matters. As for huntin', I see no good
reason why any limits need be set to that, but Hist comes of too good a
stock to toil like a common drudge. One of your means and standin' need
never want for corn, or potatoes, or anything that the fields yield;
therefore, I hope the hoe will never be put into the hands of any wife
of yourn. You know I am not quite a beggar, and all I own, whether in
ammunition, skins, arms, or calicoes, I give to Hist, should I not come
back to claim them by the end of the season. This will set the maiden
up, and will buy labor for her, for a long time to come. I suppose I
needn't tell you to love the young woman, for that you do already, and
whomsoever the man ra'ally loves, he'll be likely enough to cherish.
Nevertheless, it can do no harm to say that kind words never rankle,
while bitter words do. I know you're a man, Sarpent, that is less apt to
talk in his own lodge, than to speak at the Council Fire; but forgetful
moments may overtake us all, and the practyse of kind doin', and kind
talkin', is a wonderful advantage in keepin' peace in a cabin, as well
as on a hunt."

"My ears are open," returned the Delaware gravely; "the words of my
brother have entered so far that they never can fall out again. They
are like rings, that have no end, and cannot drop. Let him speak on; the
song of the wren and the voice of a friend never tire."

"I will speak a little longer, chief, but you will excuse it for the
sake of old companionship, should I now talk about myself. If the worst
comes to the worst, it's not likely there'll be much left of me but
ashes, so a grave would be useless, and a sort of vanity. On that score
I'm no way partic'lar, though it might be well enough to take a look
at the remains of t