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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish"

Meek folded his arms on
his breast, and seemed to pray inwardly. There was, however, one who broke
the silence, though his tones were low and menacing.
"It was a bloody deed!" muttered the innocent. "The lying Mohican hath
struck a Great Chief, from behind. Let him dig the prints of his moccason
from the earth, with his nails, like a burrowing fox: for there'll be one
on his trail, before he can hide his head. Nipset will be a warrior the
next snow!"
"There speaks my witless brother!" exclaimed Faith, rushing ahead--she
recoiled, covered her face with her hands, and sunk upon the ground, under
the violence of the surprise that followed.
Though time moved with his ordinary pace, it appeared to those who
witnessed the scene which succeeded, as if the emotions of many days were
collected within the brief compass of a few minutes. We shall not dwell on
the first harrowing and exciting moments of the appalling discovery.
A short half-hour served to make each person acquainted with all that it
was necessary to know. We shall therefore transfer the narrative to the
end of that period.


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