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- Джеймс Купер
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"
Know
you
anything
of
your
own
family
at
that
time
?
"
demanded
the
white
.
"
But
you
are
a
just
man
,
for
an
Indian
!
and
,
as
I
suppose
you
hold
their
gifts
,
your
fathers
must
have
been
brave
warriors
,
and
wise
men
at
the
council
fire
.
"
"
My
tribe
is
the
grandfather
of
nations
,
but
I
am
an
unmixed
man
.
The
blood
of
chiefs
is
in
my
veins
,
where
it
must
stay
forever
.
The
Dutch
landed
,
and
gave
my
people
the
fire-water
;
they
drank
until
the
heavens
and
the
earth
seemed
to
meet
,
and
they
foolishly
thought
they
had
found
the
Great
Spirit
.
Then
they
parted
with
their
land
.
Foot
by
foot
,
they
were
driven
back
from
the
shores
,
until
I
,
that
am
a
chief
and
a
sagamore
,
have
never
seen
the
sun
shine
but
through
the
trees
,
and
have
never
visited
the
graves
of
,
my
fathers
!
"
"
Graves
bring
solemn
feelings
over
the
mind
,
"
returned
the
scout
,
a
good
deal
touched
at
the
calm
suffering
of
his
companion
;
"
and
they
often
aid
a
man
in
his
good
intentions
;
though
,
for
myself
,
I
expect
to
leave
my
own
bones
unburied
,
to
bleach
in
the
woods
,
or
to
be
torn
asunder
by
the
wolves
.
But
where
are
to
be
found
those
of
your
race
who
came
to
their
kin
in
the
Delaware
country
,
so
many
summers
since
?
"
"
Where
are
the
blossoms
of
those
summers
!
--
fallen
,
one
by
one
:
so
all
of
my
family
departed
,
each
in
his
turn
,
to
the
land
of
spirits
.
I
am
on
the
hill-top
,
and
must
go
down
into
the
valley
;
and
when
Uncas
follows
in
my
footsteps
,
there
will
no
longer
be
any
of
the
blood
of
the
sagamores
,
for
my
boy
is
the
last
of
the
Mohicans
.
"
"
Uncas
is
here
!
"
said
another
voice
,
in
the
same
soft
,
guttural
tones
,
near
his
elbow
;
"
who
speaks
to
Uncas
?
"
The
white
man
loosened
his
knife
in
his
leathern
sheath
,
and
made
an
involuntary
movement
of
the
hand
towards
his
rifle
,
at
this
sudden
interruption
;
but
the
Indian
sat
composed
,
and
without
turning
his
head
at
the
unexpected
sounds
.
At
the
next
instant
,
a
youthful
warrior
passed
between
them
,
with
a
noiseless
step
,
and
seated
himself
on
the
bank
of
the
rapid
stream
.
No
exclamation
of
surprise
escaped
the
father
,
nor
was
any
question
asked
,
or
reply
given
,
for
several
minutes
;
each
appearing
to
await
the
moment
when
he
might
speak
,
without
betraying
womanish
curiosity
or
childish
impatience
.
The
white
man
seemed
to
take
counsel
from
their
customs
,
and
,
relinquishing
his
grasp
of
the
rifle
,
he
also
remained
silent
and
reserved
.
At
length
Chingachgook
turned
his
eyes
slowly
towards
his
son
,
and
demanded
--
"
Do
the
Maquas
dare
to
leave
the
print
of
their
moccasins
in
these
woods
?
"
