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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish"

My father is wise; he
will say what is good."
There was little time for further explanation. The door of the hut had
scarcely closed on Conanchet, before Mark Heathcote appeared at the point
where the path bent around the angle of the precipice.
"Thou knowest what hath passed, and wilt suffer me to depart with brief
discourse," said the young man, placing food at the feet of him he came to
seek; "ha! what hast here?--didst gain this in the fray of the morning?"
"It is booty that I freely bestow; take it to the house of thy father. It
is left with that object. Now tell me of the manner in which death hath
dealt with our people, for thou knowest that necessity drove me from among
them, so soon as liberty was granted."
Mark showed no disposition to gratify the other's wish. He gazed on the
bundle of Conanchet, as if his eye had never before looked on a similar
object, and keenly contending passions were playing about a brow that
was seldom as tranquil as suited the self-denying habits of the times
and country.
"It shall be done, Narragansett!" he said, speaking between his clenched
teeth; "it shall be done!" Then turning on his heel, he stalked along the
giddy path with a rapidity of stride that kept the other in fearful
suspense for his safety, until his active form had disappeared.


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