Is John old? When was a Mohican a squaw, with seventy winters! No! the white man brings old age with him—rum is his tomahawk!"
"Why then do you use it, old man?" exclaimed the young hunter; "why will one so noble by nature, aid the devices of the devil, by making himself a beast?"
"Beast! is John a beast?" repeated the Indian, slowly; "yes; you say no lie, child of the Fire-eater! John is a beast. The smokes were once few in these hills. The deer would lick the hand of a white man, and the birds rest on his head. They were strangers to him. My fathers came from the shores of the salt lake. They fled before rum. They came to their grandfather, and they lived in peace; or when they did raise the hatchet, it was to strike it into the brain of a Mingo. They gathered around the council-fire, and what they said was done. Then John was a man. But warriors and traders with light eyes followed them. One brought the long knife, and one brought rum. They were more than the pines on the mountains; and they broke up the councils, and took the lands. The evil spirit was in their jugs, and they let him loose.—Yes, yes—you say no lie, Young Eagle, John is a beast."
"Forgive me, old warrior." cried the youth, grasping his hand; "I should be the last to reproach you. The curses of Heaven light on the cupidity that has destroyed such a race. Remember, John, that I am of your family, and it is now my greatest pride."
The muscles of Mohegan relaxed a little, and he said more mildly—
"You are a Delaware, my son; your words are not heard.—John cannot shoot."
"I thought that lad had Indian blood in him," whispered Richard, "by the awkward way he
