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Chapter 13
Fortydaysandfortynightsdidtheimpscraveourbloodaroundthispileoflogs,whichIdesignedandpartlyreared,being,asyou’llremember,noIndianmyself,butamanwithoutacross.TheDelawareslentthemselvestothework,andwemadeitgood,tentotwenty,untilournumberswerenearlyequal,andthenwesalliedoutuponthehounds,andnotamanofthemevergotbacktotellthefateofhisparty.Yes,yes;Iwasthenyoung,andnewtothesightofblood;andnotrelishingthethoughtthatcreatureswhohadspiritslikemyselfshouldlayonthenakedground,tobetornasunderbybeasts,ortobleachintherains,Iburiedthedeadwithmyownhands,underthatverylittlehillockwhereyouhaveplacedyourselves;andnobadseatdoesitmakeneither,thoughitberaisedbythebonesofmortalmen."
Heywardandthesistersarose,ontheinstant,fromthegrassysepulchre;norcouldthetwolatter,notwithstandingtheterrificscenestheyhadsorecentlypassedthrough,entirelysuppressanemotionofnaturalhorror,whentheyfoundthemselvesinsuchfamiliarcontactwiththegraveofthedeadMohawks.Thegraylight,thegloomylittleareaofdarkgrass,surroundedbyitsborderofbrush,beyondwhichthepinesrose,inbreathingsilence,apparently,intotheveryclouds,andthedeath-likestillnessofthevastforest,wereallinunisontodeepensuchasensation.
