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           Ihopethesquawwhoownsthegourdhasmoreoftheminherwigwam,forthiswillneverholdwateragain!"

           Thescouthadshookhispriming,andcockedhispiece,whilespeaking;and,asheended,hethrewbackafoot,andslowlyraisedthemuzzlefromtheearth:themotionwassteady,uniform,andinonedirection.Whenonaperfectlevel,itremainedforasinglemoment,withouttremororvariation,asthoughbothmanandriflewerecarvedinstone.Duringthatstationaryinstant,itpouredforthitscontents,inabright,glancingsheetofflame.AgaintheyoungIndiansboundedforward;buttheirhurriedsearchanddisappointedlooksannouncedthatnotracesofthebulletweretobeseen.

           "Go!"saidtheoldchieftothescout,inatoneofstrongdisgust;"thouartawolfintheskinofadog.Iwilltalktothe‘LongRifle’oftheYengeese."

           "Ah!hadIthatpiecewhichfurnishedthenameyouuse,Iwouldobligatemyselftocutthethong,anddropthegourdwithoutbreakingit!"returnedHawkeye,perfectlyundisturbedbytheother’smanner,"Fools,ifyouwouldfindthebulletofasharpshooterofthesewoods,youmustlookintheobjectandnotaroundit!"

           TheIndianyouthsinstantlycomprehendedhismeaning—forthistimehespokeintheDelawaretongue—andtearingthegourdfromthetree,theyhelditonhighwithanexultingshout,displayingaholeinitsbottom,whichhadbeencutbythebullet,afterpassingthroughtheusualorificeinthecentreofitsupperside.