interrupted; the darkness of the hour, and the boldness of the attempt, proving their principal friends.
The adventurers had got clear of the village, and were now swiftly approaching the shelter of the woods, when a loud and long cry arose from the lodge where Uncas had been confined. The Mohican started on his feet and shook his shaggy covering, as though the animal he counterfeited was about to make some desperate effort.
"Hold!" said the scout, grasping his friend by the shoulder, "let them yell again! 'Twas nothing but their wonderment."
He had no occasion to delay, for at the next instant a burst of cries filled the outer air, and ran along the whole extent of the village. Uncas cast his skin, and stepped forth in his own lofty and beautiful proportions. Hawk-eye tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and glided ahead.
"Now let the devils strike our scent!" said the scout, tearing two rifles, with all their attendant accoutrements from beneath a bush, and flourishing 'kill deer' as he
