"And why are you permitted to go at large, unwatched?"

David composed his features into what he intended should express an air
of modest humility, before he meekly replied--

"Little be the praise to such a worm as I. But, though the power of
psalmody was suspended in the terrible business of that field of blood
through which we passed, it has recovered its influence even over the
souls of the heathen, and I am suffered to go and come at will."

The scout laughed, and tapping his own forehead significantly, he
perhaps explained the singular indulgence more satisfactorily when he
said--

"The Indians never harm a non-composser. But why, when the path lay open
before your eyes, did you not strike back on your own trail (it is not
so blind as that which a squirrel would make), and bring in the tidings
to Edward?"

The scout, remembering only his own sturdy and iron nature, had probably
exacted a task that David, under no circumstances, could have performed.
But, without entirely losing the meekness of his air, the latter was
content to answer--

"Though my soul would rejoice to visit the habitations of Christendom
once more, my feet would rather follow the tender spirits intrusted to
my keeping, even into the idolatrous province of the Jesuits, than take
one step backward, while they pined in captivity and sorrow."

Though the figurative language of David was not very intelligible, the
sincere and steady expression of his eye, and the glow on his honest
countenance, were not easily mistaken. Uncas pressed closer to his side,
and regarded the speaker with a look of commendation, while his father
expressed his satisfaction by the ordinary pithy exclamation of
approbation. The scout shook his head as he rejoined--

"The Lord never intended that the man should place all his endeavors in
his throat, to the neglect of other and better gifts! But he has fallen
into the hands of some silly woman, when he should have been gathering
his education under a blue sky, among the beauties of the forest. Here,
friend; I did intend to kindle a fire with this tooting whistle of
thine; but as you value the thing, take it, and blow your best on it!"

Gamut received his pitch-pipe with as strong an expression of pleasure
as he believed compatible with the grave functions he exercised. After
essaying its virtues repeatedly, in contrast with his own voice, and
satisfying himself that none of its melody was lost, he made a very
serious