"
"Ay; but he, they speak of most, is a chief far beyond the renown of
common warriors, and one that might have done credit to that once
mighty but now fallen people, the Delawares of the hills."
"Such a warrior should have a name?"
"They call him Hard-Heart, from the stoutness of his resolution; and
well is he named, if all I have heard of his deeds be true."
The stranger cast a glance, which seemed to read the guileless soul of
the old man, as he demanded--
"Has the Pale-face seen the partisan of my people?"
"Never. It is not with me now, as it used to be some forty years ago,
when warfare and bloodshed were my calling and my gifts!"
A loud shout from the reckless Paul interrupted his speech, and at the
next moment the bee-hunter appeared, leading an Indian war-horse from
the side of the thicket opposite to the one occupied by the party.
"Here is a beast for a Red-skin to straddle!" he cried, as he made the
animal go through some of its wild paces. "There's not a brigadier in
all Kentucky that can call himself master of so sleek and well-jointed
a nag! A Spanish saddle too, like a grandee of the Mexicos! and look
at the mane and tail, braided and platted down with little silver
balls, as if it were Ellen herself getting her shining hair ready for
a dance, or a husking frolic! Isn't this a real trotter, old trapper,
to eat out of the manger of a savage?"
"Softly, lad, softly.
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