If this be true, he will look for his woman and boy in the
happy hunting-grounds, and they will come to him. There is no hunter of
the Yengeese that can kill so many deer. Let Narra-mattah forget her chief
till that time, and then, when she calls him by name, let her speak
strong, for he will be very glad to hear her voice again. Go; a Sagamore
is about to start on a long journey. He takes leave of his wife with a
heavy spirit. She will put a little flower of two colors before her eyes,
and be happy in its growth. Now let her go. A Sagamore is about to die."
The attentive woman caught each slow and measured syllable, as one trained
in superstitious legends would listen to the words of an oracle. But,
accustomed to obedience and bewildered with her grief, she hesitated no
longer. The head of Narra-mattah sunk on her bosom, as she left him, and
her face was buried in her robe. The step with which she passed Uncas was
so light as to be inaudible; but when he saw her tottering form, turning
swiftly, he stretched an arm high in the air. The terrible mutes just
showed themselves from behind the tree, and vanished.
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