Will you do a favour to an old and dying
man?"
"Name it," said Middleton; "it shall be done."
"It is a far journey to send such trifles," resumed the old man, who
spoke at short intervals, as strength and breath permitted; "a far and
weary journey is the same; but kindnesses and friendships are things
not to be forgotten. There is a settlement among the Otsego hills--"
"I know the place," interrupted Middleton, observing that he spoke
with increasing difficulty; "proceed to tell me, what you would have
done."
"Take this rifle, and pouch, and horn, and send them to the person,
whose name is graven on the plates of the stock,--a trader cut the
letters with his knife,--for it is long, that I have intended to send
him such a token of my love."
"It shall be so. Is there more that you could wish?"
"Little else have I to bestow. My traps I give to my Indian son; for
honestly and kindly has he kept his faith. Let him stand before me."
Middleton explained to the chief what the trapper had said and
relinquished his own place to the other.
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