"And his father?"
"Was called the same, without the appellation of the native chief. It
was to him, and to my grandmother, that the service of which I have
just spoken was rendered."
"I know'd it! I know'd it!" shouted the old man, in his tremulous
voice, his rigid features working powerfully, as if the names the
other mentioned awakened some long dormant emotions, connected with
the events of an anterior age. "I know'd it! son or grandson, it is
all the same; it is the blood, and 'tis the look! Tell me, is he they
call'd Duncan, without the Uncas--is he living?"
The young man shook his head sorrowfully, as he replied in the
negative.
"He died full of days and of honours. Beloved, happy, and bestowing
happiness!"
"Full of days!" repeated the trapper, looking down at his own meagre,
but still muscular hands. "Ah! he liv'd in the settlements, and was
wise only after their fashions. But you have often seen him; and you
have heard him discourse of Uncas, and of the wilderness?"
"Often! he was then an officer of the king; but when the war took
place between the crown and her colonies, my grandfather did not
forget his birthplace, but threw off the empty allegiance of names,
and was true to his proper country; he fought on the side of liberty.
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