"Come," he said, laying his soiled hand on the dress of Cora, "the wigwam of the Huron is open. Is it not better than this place?"
"Away!" cried Cora, veiling her eyes from his revolting aspect.
The Indian laughed tauntingly as he held up his reeking hand, and answered—"It is red, but it comes from white veins!"
"Monster! there is blood, oceans of blood, upon thy soul; thy spirit has moved this scene."
"Magua is a great chief!" returned the exulting savage—"will the dark hair go to his tribe!"
"Never! strike, if thou wilt, and complete thy hellish revenge."
He hesitated a moment; and then catching the light and senseless form of Alice in his arms, the subtle Indian moved swiftly across the plain toward the woods.
"Hold!" shrieked Cora, following wildly on his footsteps, "release the child! wretch! what is't you do!"
But Magua was deaf to her voice; or rather he knew his power, and was determined to maintain it.
