to bring off a three-pounder from among the Frenchers in the last
skrimmage we had; he thought he was sarving honor; and I have known
a young ensign wrap himself up in his colors, and go to sleep in
his blood, fancying that he was lying on something softer even than
buffalo-skins."

"Yes, yes; one can understand the merit of not hauling down an
ensign."

"And these are Chingachgook's colors -- he will keep them to show
his children's children -- " Here the Pathfinder interrupted
himself, shook his head in melancholy, and slowly added, "Ah's
me! no shoot of the old Mohican stem remains! He has no children
to delight with his trophies; no tribe to honor by his deeds; he
is a lone man in this world, and yet he stands true to his training
and his gifts! There is something honest and respectable in these,
you must allow, Jasper."

Here a great outcry from the Iroquois was succeeded by the quick
reports of their rifles, and so eager did the enemy become, in the
desire to drive the Delaware back from his victim, that a dozen
rushed into the river, several of whom even advanced near a hundred
feet into the foaming current, as if they actually meditated a
serious sortie. But Chingachgook continued unmoved, as he remained
unhurt by the missiles, accomplishing his task with the dexterity
of long habit. Flourishing his reeking trophy, he gave the war-whoop
in its most frightful intonations, and for a minute the arches of
the silent woods and the deep vista formed by the course of the
river echoed with cries so terrific that Mabel bowed her head in
irrepressible fear, while her uncle for a single instant actually