powerful Indian leaped through the bushes, alighting like a panther
on his back. Everything was now suspended by a hair; a false step
ruining all. With a generosity that would have rendered a Roman
illustrious throughout all time, but which, in the career of one
so simple and humble, would have been forever lost to the world but
for this unpretending legend, Deerslayer threw all his force into
a desperate effort, shoved the canoe off with a power that sent it
a hundred feet from the shore, as it might be in an instant, and
fell forward into the lake, himself, face downward; his assailant
necessarily following him.

Although the water was deep within a few yards of the beach, it
was not more than breast high, as close in as the spot where the
two combatants fell. Still this was quite sufficient to destroy
one who had sunk, under the great disadvantages in which Deerslayer
was placed. His hands were free, however, and the savage was
compelled to relinquish his hug, to keep his own face above the
surface. For half a minute there was a desperate struggle, like
the floundering of an alligator that has just seized some powerful
prey, and then both stood erect, grasping each other's arms, in
order to prevent the use of the deadly knife in the darkness. What
might have been the issue of this severe personal struggle cannot
be known, for half a dozen savages came leaping into the water to
the aid of their friend, and Deerslayer yielded himself a prisoner,
with a dignity that was as remarkable as his self-devotion.

To quit the lake and lead their new captive to the fire occupied
the Indians but another minute. So much engaged were they all
with the struggle and its consequences, that the canoe was unseen,
though it still lay so near the shore as to render every syllable