"
The other turned, and without seeking aid from the gun which rested
against his shoulder, he pointed at the several objects he named, and
answered--
"My father is this aged sycamore; it leans against the young
oak--Conanchet is a straight pine. There is great cunning in gray hairs,"
added the chief stepping lightly forward until a finger rested on the arm
of Submission; "can they tell the time when we shall lie under the moss
like a dead hemlock?"
"That exceedeth the wisdom of man. It is enough, Sachem, if when we fall,
we may say with truth, that the land we shadowed is no poorer for our
growth. Thy bones will lie in the earth where thy fathers trod, but mine
may whiten in the vault of some gloomy forest."
The quiet of the Indian's face was disturbed. The pupils of his dark eyes
contracted, his nostrils dilated, and his full chest heaved; and then all
reposed, like the sluggish ocean, after a vain effort to heave its waters
into some swelling wave, during a general calm.
"Fire hath scorched the prints of my father's moccasons from the earth,"
he said, with a smile that was placid though bitter, "and my eyes cannot
find them.
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