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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Samowat, friend of the white men, protector of the weak, brave and noble warrior that knows no fear, hear the voice of the little 'bird in the woods' that sings of Jesus. Samowat dies for his little friends that they might be safe. Jesus died for Samowat that he may be saved. Samowat, the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses you from all sin.
Samowat, Jesus will come right away and take Samowat home to where happiness is. Samowat, hear my voice." The Indian breathed heavily and he fought hard to speak. His native Mohican, pronounced with infinite tenderness by Agnes, had made a deep impression on him. "Samowat," he stammered weakly, "has saved his little 'bird of the woods. Samowat loves Jesus, and is not afraid to die."
For a moment he struggled in silence to gain strength for speech. Fred poured some cold tea into his mouth which he sipped eagerly. "It is well," he said after a few moments. "Samowat is going home to Jesus. But -but little white warrior -must go -go -north. Pequots on war path -they south. Hurry, little paleface warrior. Kill horses -go Indian fashion -walk."
So let's keep the horses." "I fear you are right," Fred meditated, "but I am sure the horses won't benefit us." Suddenly Agnes exclaimed: "I know what we are going to do! We'll get back to the trail, and follow that to the next settlement. Samowat said that the Indians are south of us. Very well by this time they may be west of us, and we might escape them since we go east.
The Mohican tried to speak, but his tongue would not move. He grasped the lad's hand firmly. Agnes bent over him. She remembered that he was a Christian. Her missionary heart overflowed with love for the guide's soul. "Samowat," she tenderly pronounced his Indian name.
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