Renard; will she like it better when it rolls about this hill, a plaything for the wolves? Her bosom cannot nurse the children of a Huron; she will see it spit upon by Indians!"
"What means the monster?" demanded the astonished Heyward.
"Nothing!" was the firm but mild reply. "He is a savage, a barbarous and ignorant savage, and knows not what he does. Let us find leisure, with our dying breath, to ask for him penitence and pardon."
"Pardon!" echoed the fierce Huron, mistaking, in his anger, the meaning of her words; "the memory of an Indian is longer than the arm of the pale-faces; his mercy shorter than their justice! Say, shall I send the yellow-hair to her father, and will you follow Magua to the great lakes, to carry his water, and feed him with corn?"
Cora beckoned him away, with an emotion of disgust she could not control.
"Leave me," she said, with a solemnity that for a moment checked the barbarity of the Indian; "you mingle bitterness in
