ing consolatory and instructive was
expected from so renowned a chief on an occasion of such interest.
Conscious of the wishes of the people, the stern and self-restrained
warrior raised his face, which had latterly been buried in his robe, and
looked about him with a steady eye. His firmly compressed and expressive
lips then severed, and for the first time during the long ceremonies his
voice was distinctly audible.

"Why do my brothers mourn!" he said, regarding the dark race of dejected
warriors by whom he was environed; "why do my daughters weep! that a
young man has gone to the happy hunting-grounds; that a chief has filled
his time with honor! He was good; he was dutiful; he was brave. Who can
deny it? The Manitou had need of such a warrior, and He has called him
away. As for me, the son and the father of Uncas, I am a blazed pine, in
a clearing of the pale-faces. My race has gone from the shores of the
salt lake, and the hills of the Delawares. But who can say that the
Serpent of his tribe has forgotten his wisdom? I am alone--"

"No, no," cried Hawkeye, who had been gazing with a yearning look at the
rigid features of his friend, with something like his own self-command,
but whose philosophy could endure no longer; "no, Sagamore, not alone.
The gifts of our colors may be different, but God has so placed us as to
journey in the same path. I have no kin, and I may also say, like you,
no people. He was your son, and a redskin by nature; and it may be that
your blood was nearer--but if ever I forget the lad who has so often
fou't at my side in war, and slept at my side in peace, may He who made
us all, whatever may be our color or our gifts, forget me! The boy has
left us for a time; but, Sagamore, you are not alone."

Chingachgook grasped the hand that, in the warmth of feeling, the scout
had stretched across the fresh earth, and in that attitude of friendship
these two sturdy and intrepid woodsmen bowed their heads together, while
scalding tears fell to their feet, watering the grave of Uncas like
drops of falling rain.

In the midst of the awful stillness with which such a burst of feeling,
coming, as it did, from the two most renowned warriors of that region,
was received, Tamenund lifted his voice to disperse the multitude.

"It is enough," he said. "Go, children of the Lenape, the anger of the
Manitou is not done. Why should Tamenund stay? The pale-faces are
masters of the earth, and the time of the redmen