"The Mohicans are basket-makers for the Yengeese; but the Narragansett goes leaping through the woods, like a wolf on the trail of the deer!"
"All this is quite in reason, and now thou pointest to its justice, I cannot fail but see it. But we have curiosity to know more of the great tribe. Hast ever heard of one of thy people, Whittal, known as Miantonimoh--'tis a chief of some renown."
The witless youth had continued to eat, at intervals; but, on hearing this question, he seemed suddenly to forget his appetite. For a moment he looked down, and then he answered slowly and not without solemnity--
"A man cannot live for ever."
"What!" said Faith, motioning to her deeply-interested auditors to restrain their impatience--"has he quitted his people? And thou lived with him, Whittal, ere he came to his end?"
"He never looked on Nipset, nor Nipset on him."
"I know nought of this Nipset; tell me of the great Miantonimoh."
"Dost need to hear twice? The Sachem is gone to the far land, and Nipset will be a warrior when the next snow comes!"
Disappointment threw a cloud on every countenance, and the beam of hope, which had been kindling in the eye of Ruth, changed to the former painful expression of deep inward suffering. But Faith still managed to repress all speech among those who listened, continuing the examination, after a short delay that her vexation rendered unavoidable.
"I had thought that Miantonimoh was still a warrior in his tribe," she said. "In what battle did he fall?"