 the air
with its head downwards, for a fleeting instant, until it glided past the fringe
of shrubbery which clung to the mountain, in its rapid flight to destruction.
 

                                 Chapter XXXIII

 »They fought - like brave men, long and well,
 They piled that ground with Moslem slain,
 They conquered - but Bozzaris fell,
 Bleeding at every vein.
 His few surviving comrades saw
 His smile when rang their proud hurrah,
 And the red field was won;
 Then saw in death his eyelids close
 Calmly, as to a night's repose,
 Like flowers at set of sun.«
                                           Halleck, »Marco Bozzaris,« ll. 37-46.
 
The sun found the Lenape, on the succeeding day, a nation of mourners. The
sounds of the battle were over, and they had fed fat their ancient grudge, and
had avenged their recent quarrel with the Mengwe, by the destruction of a whole
community. The black and murky atmosphere that floated around the spot where the
Hurons had encamped, sufficiently announced, of itself, the fate of that
wandering tribe; while hundreds of ravens, that struggled above the bleak
summits of the mountains, or swept, in noisy flocks, across the wide ranges of
the woods, furnished a frightful direction to the scene of the combat. In short,
any eye, at all practised in the signs of a frontier warfare, might easily have
traced all those unerring evidences of the ruthless results which attend an
Indian vengeance.
    Still, the sun rose on the Lenape, a nation of mourners. No shouts of
success, no songs of triumph, were heard, in rejoicings for their victory. The
latest straggler had returned from his fell employment, only to strip himself of
the terrific emblems of his bloody calling, and to join in the lamentations of
his countrymen, as a stricken people. Pride and exultation were supplanted by
humility, and the fiercest of human passions was already succeeded by the most
profound and unequivocal demonstrations of grief.
    The lodges were deserted; but a broad belt of earnest faces encircled a spot
in their vicinity, whither every thing possessing life had repaired, and where
all were now collected, in deep and awful silence. Though beings of every rank
and age, of both sexes, and of all pursuits, had united to form this breathing
wall of bodies, they were influenced by a single emotion. Each eye was riveted
on the centre of that ring, which contained the objects of so much, and of so
common, an interest.
    Six Delaware girls, with their long, dark, flowing, tresses, falling loosely
across their bosoms
