Page:The last of the Mohicans (1826 Volume 3).djvu/42

 "Spirits differ; some yield to the power of wisdom, while others are too strong."

"My brother is a great medicine!" said the cunning savage; "he will try?"

A gesture of assent was the answer. The Huron was content with the assurance, and resuming his pipe, he awaited the proper moment to move. The impatient Heyward, inwardly execrating the cold customs of the savages, which required such a sacrifice to appearances, was fain to assume an air of indifference, equal to that maintained by the chief, who was in truth, a near relative of the afflicted woman. The minutes lingered, and the delay had seemed an hour to the adventurer in empiricism, when the Huron laid aside his pipe, and drew his robe across his breast, as if about to lead the way to the lodge of the invalid. Just then, a warrior of powerful frame darkened the door, and stalking silently among the attentive group, he seated himself on one end of that low pile of brush, which sustained Duncan on its other. The latter cast an impatient look at his neighbour, and felt his flesh creep with uncontrollable