'No, Henrich,' replied his sister; 'do not go this evening. I know not why, but the wood looks dark and gloomy; there is no sunlight on the path, and the shadows are so deep, that I could fancy every low bush was a crouching Indian. I cannot go into the wood tonight.'

'You are timid, dear Edith. You never feared to go with me before; and why should you fear this evening? See, the sun is still high in the horizon, and the darkness is all in your own fancy. Come and see that lovely creeper I told you of; and when you have admired it hanging from the decayed trunk of the old tree that supports it, you shall help me to remove it to your bower, where it will be the fairest flower that grows, except the little fairy queen herself.'

Henrich caught his sister's hand, and kissing her playfully, attempted to draw her from the bower. But she looked sad and anxious, and replied—

'O, Henrich! do not ask me; my bower is fair enough, and I would not go as far as that old tree tonight, for all the flowers that grow in the forest. Stay with me, Henrich, dear. Our mother will join us soon, and she will be alarmed if you are not here.'

The boy looked at his sister's pensive face with an affectionate smile: but he was not to be diverted from his scheme.

'Stay here, then, Edith,' he replied; 'and tell my mother that I shall return in little more than ten minutes. Come, Ludovico,' he added, calling his little brother, who was always ready to follow where Henrich led. 'Come, Ludovico, you are not afraid of the shadows. Bring your basket, and you shall gather moss while I dig up my creeper. When Edith sees its drooping white flowers, she will forgive me for laughing at her unusual fears.'

Edith said no more. She was sure that Henrich knew best; and she silently watched him leave the garden, and enter the shade of the thick forest, accompanied by her joyous little brother. Were her fears, indeed, the mere creation of her own young fancy I or were they occasioned by one of those strange and unaccountable presentiments which have been felt so frequently as to justify the old proverb,

'Coming events cast their shadow, before them.'

Edith sat on the mossy seat that Henrich had formed in her bower. It looked towards the wood, and the commanding situation which it occupied, on a rising ground towards the center of the garden, enabled her to overlook the green fence that enclosed the grounds, and to watch the receding forms of her brothers, until they were hidden from her sight by the winding of the path through the underwood. Still she gazed, and her heart grew sad; and tears, which she could not check, rolled down her cheeks. Did she again fancy? and did her tearful eyes now convert the bushes into the figures of two dark Indians, in the costume of the dreaded Nausetts? Surely those were human forms that moved so swiftly and so silently from the dark stem of a gigantic oak, and crossing the forest path, were instantly again concealed. Edith wiped her glistening eyes. She held her breath, and feared to move; but the beating of her young heart was audible. No sound met her listening ear—no movement again was detected by her straining eye—and she began to think that her own fears had conjured up those terrible forms.

But what was that distant cry that sounded from the wood in the direction in which her brothers had gone? And why does she now behold Ludovico running wildly, and alone, down the path, with terror depicted in his countenance?

Edith flew to meet him; but ere she reached him, the dreadful truth was made known to her by his agonized cry.

'O, my brother! my brother! they have taken him, Edith; they are dragging him away! They will kill him!' he shrieked aloud, as he threw himself into Edith's arms, almost choked with the violence of his feelings, and the speed with which he had fled.

What could Edith do? She dared not leave him, to be carried off, perhaps, by some other prowling savage, who might still be lingering near; and she could not carry him home. Slowly she drew him on, while every moment seemed an hour, that delayed her from giving the alarm, and sending friends to the rescue of her darling brother.

'O! why did he leave me?' she murmured. 'Why did he go, when I knew that danger was near?'

As soon as she had brought the panting and terrified Ludovico within the precincts of the garden, she left him, and ran towards the house, calling loudly on her mother, who rushed out on hearing her voice of terror, and was instantly made acquainted with the appalling fact that had occurred. Who shall tell the agony of her feelings, or describe the sufferings of that mother's heart, when she knew that her child was in the power of the savage and relentless enemies of the white men? She was, indeed, ignorant of the peculiar vengeance that they desired to wreak on her husband and all his race; but the malevolent character of the Nausetts had been sufficiently manifested in their repeated and destructive attacks on the settlement, and their willful desecration of the graves of the exiles, to awaken the most poignant fears in her breast. Rodolph, too, was absent, and Brewster was still at the Wampanoge village; and where should she seek for succor or for counsel!

Hastily calling Janet, who was the only domestic at home, she committed Ludovico to her care; and taking Edith by the hand, she hurried from the garden, scarcely knowing whither she bent her steps, but in the vague hope of meeting some of the settlers returning from their labors in the fields, and inducing them to go to the rescue of her boy.

Onward she fled along the skirts of the forest, towards the fields of her husband's friend Winslow, who, she well knew, would aid her with all his power: but she found him not, and no human being appeared in sight to listen to her appeal for succor. The sun was setting, and all had returned to the village. What then could Helen do? To retrace her steps, and seek her friends and neighbors in their homes, would be to lose precious moments, on which the life and liberty of her Henrich might depend. To strike into the depths of the forest, and cross the belt of wood that divided the settlement from Mooanam's encampment would be the quickest plan, and probably the most effectual, as her Wampanoge friends would know far better than the settlers how to follow in the train of the fugitives, and how either to persuade or to compel them to release their prisoners. Helen had never dared to enter the wood, except under the protection of her husband, even in the broad light of day; and now the gloom of evening was gathering around her, and the path that led into the wood was obscured by the shadows of the thick foliage above. Bat where were all her fears and apprehensions? She was unconscious of such feelings now. The timid woman's heart was nerved to the occasion, and no danger could now make her shrink.

She turned rapidly into the narrow path, and pursued her way with a firmness and decision, of which, at any other time, when she was trusting to the arm and guidance of Rodolph, she would have believed herself incapable. She knew the direction in which the Indian village lay, and the slanting rays of the declining sun occasionally penetrated the thick wood, and cast bright streaks of light on the mossy ground, and the boles of the giant trees around; but soon they faded away, and a deep gloom overspread her path.

'Mother,' said the trembling little Edith, as she clung to Helen's hand, and exerted her utmost strength to keep up with her rapid steps; 'Mother, do you not fear to pass through this forest now? Shall we not meet more of those dreadful savages who have taken away my brother? Oh, Henrich! Henrich!' she cried—while tears burst afresh from her eyes at the recollection of her brother's fate—'why did you venture into this wood to seek plants for my bower?' and the child sobbed convulsively, from mingled grief and fear.

'Cease, Edith, cease!' replied the deeply distressed, but now firm and courageous Helen: 'I fear nothing while I am seeking aid for Henrich. God will protect us, my child!' she added: and she raised her glistening eyes to heaven, and gazed, hopefully and trustingly, on one bright star that shone upon her between the summits of the lofty trees. Her heart was strengthened by her pious confidence in her heavenly Father. She remembered also that Edith looked to her for protection; and all personal fears were absorbed by that generous and elevating feeling of self-devotion, which is shared even by the lower and weaker animals when their offspring are in danger. So Helen forgot herself, and felt strong to guard her child, and strong to seek and obtain aid for him whose peril was more real and urgent.

Onward she pressed in silence but her soul was pleading eloquently with God. Soon Edith checked her suddenly, and exclaimed, as she stumbled over something in the pathway, 'Oh mother, here are Henrich's tools; and there I see Ludovico's basket full of moss! This is the spot to which my brothers were coming; and yonder is the old tree, with the white flowers hanging on it, that Henrich wished to plant by my bower. It must have been here that the Indians seized him while he was at work.'

That part of the wood was more light and open than the rest of their way had been; and Helen hastily surveyed it, that she might be able to guide the Wampanoges thither, and point out to them where to commence the pursuit. Again she resumed her way; and, regardless of fatigue, she never paused again until she reached the border of the quiet and lonely lake, on which the rising moon was now shining in all her silvery splendor. The huts of the friendly natives stood out, clear and dark, on the level shore of the lake, and Helen and her weary child soon reached them, and hastened to Mooanam's lodge. There they found the Chief, and his interesting young wife and children, sitting on the matted floor, listening with deep attention to the words of life and salvation which Brewster was reading and interpreting to them from the Holy Scriptures. The hurried entrance of Helen startled and alarmed them; for her countenance plainly told them, that some calamity had occasioned her unlooked-for appearance at such an unwonted time.

With breathless haste she told her sad errand, and Brewster quickly explained her words to the Chief, Mooanam seized his arms, and rushed from the lodge, calling, in a loud and commanding voice, on his people to arm themselves and accompany him in the pursuit of the cruel and vindictive Nausetts. All was hurry and excitement throughout the village, and every swarthy warrior pressed forward, and desired to share in the expedition to save their young English favorite. It was necessary, however, to leave a strong party at the village, to guard it from any act of treachery or violence on the part of their malicious rivals, who, it was now evident, were still lurking in the neighborhood; and, while Mooanam was selecting his party, and arranging his plans, a clear shrill voice was heard from the margin of the lake, crying, 'The canoes! the canoes! Quadequina is returning.'

'The canoes, the canoes!' resounded through the crowd; and Helen's heart hounded with joy and gratitude. Rodolph was near; and all would yet be well.

Little Nepea had led Edith to the shore while the warriors were discussing their plans; and in a strange mixture of English and Indian words, the children were conversing on the recent sad event. The quick ear of the young savage had detected the splash of oars at the farther side of the lake, and he instantly discovered the three canoes that were leaving the opposite coast, and emerging from the deep shadow of the overhanging trees. He had raised that joyful cry; and now all the inhabitants of the village rushed down to the shore to welcome their brethren, and to tell the startling news.

Nearest to the brink stood Helen and her little girl, closely attended by Mooanam and the Squaw-Sachem Apannow, who shared her impatient anxiety for the return of the embassy, that they might have the benefit of Maitland's counsel, and also obtain an addition to their forces. The elder, Brewster, was deeply moved at the misfortune that had befallen his young friend, Henrich. But he knew that not a moment was to be lost! and, while all others were crowding down to the lake side, he busied him self in arranging the volunteers for the pursuit, and seeing that his own musket was in a proper state for active service.

The canoes sped swiftly across the moonlit waters; and as they neared the shore, Rodolph perceived the forms of his wife and daughter, surrounded by the dark Indians, and ready to receive him. But he felt only pleasure at this unexpected and welcome meeting. No feeling of alarm crossed his breast, until he drew near enough to distinguish Helen's countenance; and then he knew that she had come with evil tidings. He sprang from the canoe, eager to hear the truth: but all the firmness and courage which had so wonderfully sustained his wife while she was obliged to act for herself, forsook her the moment she felt herself supported by her Rodolph's arm; and faintly exclaiming, 'O my son, my son!' she fainted; while little Edith burst into tears, and sobbed out her brother's name.

'Tell me, in the name of heaven, what all this means!' exclaimed Maitland, turning a look of eager inquiry on Mooanam, who stood with characteristic silence and apparent composure, waiting the proper moment to speak. 'Tell me,' cried the distracted father again, 'what dire calamity has befallen my boy?'

'My heart is dark for you,' replied the Sachem, in a voice of perfect calmness, though a tear glistened in his coal black eye, and his brow was clouded by anxiety. 'My heart is very dark for you, and for your young warrior—for, boy as he was, he was a brave at heart.'

Mooanam spoke in his native tongue, intermixed with English words and phrases, which he had learned from Brewster and the other settlers; but the father's heart comprehended all he said, and needed no interpreter.

'Is my son dead, then?' he exclaimed. 'Has accident or violence quenched his young spirit?'

'Worse than dead,' slowly replied the Sachem; and he looked pityingly at Helen, who now began to recover her senses. 'Leave your wife to the care of the squaws,' he added, 'and come with me to the wise man yonder, and he will tell you all.'

He led Rodolph to where Brewster was occupied in making preparations, and soon the afflicted father was made acquainted with the fate of his son. He felt indeed that death—a calm and peaceful death beneath his own accustomed roof, and with those he dearly loved around him—would have been a far happier lot for Henrich than that to which he now feared he might be doomed—than that which, possibly, his darling boy was at that moment enduring at the hands of his cruel and malignant enemies.

The thought was maddening. But there was still a hope of saving him by speed and resolution; and he urged the Sachem to depart instantly. One moment he gave to visit and endeavor to cheer his wife, who now lay powerless and weeping in Apannow's lodge; and then he joined the Chief, who, with Brewster and a band of picked men, were ready to accompany him. The pastor had already learnt from Edith all that she could tell relative to the spot where her brother had been captured; and to that spot the pursuing party hurried, and soon discovered the basket and the tools that told where the boys had been so rudely interrupted in their work. Quickly the trodden grass, and the broken branches of the thick underwood, showed in what direction the boy had been dragged by his captors; and on the track the Wampanoge warriors followed, like hounds in the chase. But, alas! the Nausetts had had a fearful start of them; and little hope existed in the breast of Mooanam that they could overtake them, in time to avert the dreadful fate that he had feared for Henrich.

The Sachem was himself an Indian, and he well knew the Indian desire for retaliation and vengeance. He was, indeed, a man of a mild and generous nature, and he belonged to a tribe less distinguished by cruelty than the Nausetts. But still he felt that, according to the savage code of the natives, blood must atone for blood, and he believed that already the life of Henrich had probably been sacrificed in expiation of his father's having slain the son of the Nausett Chief. Still he led his warriors on, and neither paused nor spoke until the party emerged from the thick wood, upon a little opening that was lighted up brilliantly by the moon-beams. Here, where it was evident a small temporary encampment had existed, and had only been very recently and hastily removed, he stopped, and looked earnestly around. The poles still stood erect which lied supported the tents of the Nausetts; the fires were still burning; and many articles of domestic use lay scattered about, which the hasty departure of the inhabitants had probably prevented their removing.

Rudolph hurried through the camp in search of some sign of his son; and his eager eye fell on the well-known tunic that Henrich was accustomed to wear. He snatched it up hastily; and then, with a deep groan, let it fall again upon the ground. The breast of the tunic was pierced through in several places, and the whole dress was stained with blood—blood that was newly shed.

Maitland pointed to this evidence of his son's death! and when the Sachem had examined it, he set his teeth together, and drew in his breath with an oppressed, hissing sound, as of severe pain.

'It is over, my friend,' he said, in a low deep voice to Rodolph—'it is over; and we are too late. Naught now remains but to take revenge— full, ample revenge. Let us follow the miscreants.'

Rudolph turned, and looked at him. He fixed on him such a searching gaze—a gaze so full of gentle reproof and of deep settled grief-that the warm-hearted Chief stood silent, and almost abashed before his Christian friend.

'Is it thus you have learned of Brewster?' said the sorrowing father. 'Is it thus that you are taught in that book which the Great Spirit has dictated? The Father of us all has declared, "vengeance is mine; I will repay "; and since we are too late to save my son, we will not commit deeds of blood which his now happy and ransomed spirit would abhor.'

Mooanam was silenced, but not convinced. Inwardly he vowed vengeance against those who had dealt so cruelly with the unoffending boy; though, under similar circumstances, he would probably have acted with the same spirit. But the Chief bad allied himself with the white men. He loved and reverenced them; and he was resolved to avenge the wrongs of Maitland, as if they had been his own.

Sadly and silently the party returned to the Indian village, where they arrived at the break of day. We will not attempt to describe the mother's anguish when she was made acquainted with the dreaded fate of her son; but Helen was a Christian, and while her heart was bowed down with crushing grief, her spirit strove to hush its rebellious questionings, and to submit itself to the will of God.

'It is the Lord,' she meekly exclaimed: 'let Him do what seemeth Him good!'

That morning she returned with her husband and Edith to the settlement; and they were accompanied by Brewster, whose pious exhortations and sympathizing kindness were invaluable to the bereaved and afflicted parents. The grief of Edith was less capable of being suppressed; and it broke out afresh when little Ludovico came to meet them, and inquired for his brother. From the child they learnt, that while he and Henrich were busily engaged in their several occupations in the wood, two Indians had suddenly rushed from the thick brushwood, and seized on his brother before he had time to fly. Ludovico was gathering moss at some distance, but he saw what passed, and uttered a cry that attracted the attention of the savages; and one of them east a spear at him with such violence, that, missing its intended mark, it stuck firmly in a tree close behind him. Seeing this, his noble and courageous brother called out to him to hide among the bushes, and make his way home as quickly as possible; and the Indians, eager to secure the prize they had so long been watching for, hurried away through the forest, dragging Henrich with them.

The murderous attempt made by these savages against the life of Ludovico proved but too clearly that the destruction of Rodolph's children was their object, and banished every hope that lingered in Helen's breast; and this conviction of their cruel intentions was still further confirmed by Janet's account of the look and gesture of the warrior who attended his Chief when the Nausetts first assailed the settlement. Rodolph had seen, and understood the action; and as he had also learnt through his Wampanoge friends that Tekoa, the son of the Nausett Chief, had fallen in the first encounter, he knew enough of Indian customs to be aware that he, as the slayer, was a marked object of their vengeance. He had, however, always concealed his suspicions from Helen; and the only effect they had produced on him was causing him, at that time, to prohibit his children from venturing unguarded into the wood, more strictly than he would otherwise have done.



CHAPTER V.

'Surely the wrath of man shall praise thee: the remainder of wrath shalt thou restrain.' PSA. lxxvi,10.

We will now, for a time, leave the settlement—where the sad news of the capture and supposed death of Henrich had spread a general gloom and consternation—and follow the subject of their pitying grief, from the time that he was seized and made a prisoner in the hands of the savages. They did not slay him; for the Lord had work and service in store for the young missionary, and he suffered not a hair of his head to be hurt.

Coubitant—for he was one of those whose patient vigilance had, at length, been crowned by success—and his companion had hurried him at their greatest speed through the wood, to the spot where their temporary camp was pitched, and where several others of their tribe awaited their return. A few minutes sufficed to remove the matting that formed their tents, and to collect their arms and utensils; but Coubitant well knew that the child who had escaped his cruelty would soon alarm the settlers, and that an instant pursuit would follow. He therefore, devised plan to deceive, and, perhaps altogether to check the white men, at least for a time, by making them believe that the death of the captive had already taken place. He would have instantly gratified the feelings of his cruel and revengeful heart, and have shed the innocent blood of Rodolph's son to atone for the death of his friend, but that he feared to disappoint his Chief, who so earnestly desired to imbrue his own hands in the blood of the slayer. He, therefore, resolved on the stratagem we have described. He stripped off the captive's tunic, and, after piercing it several times with his dagger, he opened a vein in his own arm with the same weapon, and let the hot blood flow freely over the torn vesture.

This done, he smiled a demon's smile, as he cast the tunic on the ground, and thought with malignant pleasure of the anguish that its discovery would occasion to his hated foe.

Henrich gazed in trembling wonder at this act; and when Coubitant again approached him to bind his hands, he believed that he was about to plunge that blood-stained knife into his beating heart. He was young, and life was new and precious to him; and for a moment he shrank back, while the blood curdled in his veins. But, young as he was, he was also a child of God; and he knew that all events are governed by His Almighty power, and over-ruled by His wisdom and love. So he was enabled to lift up his eyes and his trusting heart to heaven, and to await his expected fate with calmness. Coubitant saw his firmness, and he wondered and admired. He placed the dagger in his belt and hastily tying the captive's hands behind his back, he motioned to his companions to follow, and struck into a narrow and almost undistinguishable path.

Forcing Henrich to go before him, while he held the rope of twisted grass that bound his hands he followed close behind, and placed his foot in each print that the prisoner made, so as to destroy the impression of the boy's European shoe. The other Indians did the same; as exactly did they tread in one another's steps, that, when all had passed, it seemed as if only one solitary traveler had left his track on the soft ground.

Thus, 'in Indian file,' they traversed a belt of wood, till they came out on a dry and sun-burnt plain, where their steps left no impression. Coubitant then advanced to the side of his prisoner, and, taking his arm in his powerful grasp, he compelled him to advance, at an almost breathless speed, across the plain. In the wood, on the other side, he allowed a short pause, and gave Henrich some water from a bottle made of a dried gourd, which hung about his neck; and thus they traveled on, with slight refreshment and little rest, until the sun arose in all his splendor, and displayed to Henrich's admiring gaze the wild and magnificent woodland scenery through which he was travelling. Under other circumstances, he would keenly have enjoyed the novelty and the beauty of the objects that met his eyes, so different from the luxuriant, but flat and monotonous fields, and gardens, and canals, that he so well remembered in Holland. Here all was wild and varied; and all was on a scale of grandeur that inspired him with a feeling of awe and solemnity, heightened, no doubt, by the fearful uncertainty of his fate, and the thought that, perhaps, this was the last time that he should look upon these glorious hills, and ancient forests, and wide rushing rivers—the handiworks, and the visible teachers of God's power. Something of American scenery he had become acquainted with in his rambles round the Indian village, but only enough to make him long to see more; and had he now been travelling by the side of his father, or his friend Brewster, the elastic morning air, and the splendid and ever-varying views, would have made his young heart bound with joy and health.

As it was, the silent beauty of nature was not without its influence on the captive boy. He seemed to feel more strongly the presence and the goodness of his heavenly Father; and his young spirit was cheered to endure his present desolate situation, and strengthened to meet whatever future trials might await him. He had learnt from Brewster to make himself understood in the Wampanoge language, and he resolved to try whether his Nausett guide would reply to his questions in that tongue. He therefore besought him to tell him whither he was leading him, and for what purpose. But Coubitant deigned him no reply. He understood him—for the Nausett language was but another dialect of the Wampanoge—but he did not choose to inform the boy of his destination at present, and he preserved a profound silence, and an expression of sullen gravity.

It was not until the evening of the fourth day that the party reached the Nausett village, which, as we have already observed, was situate near the site of the 'first encounter'; and to which Tisquantum, and the greater part of his warriors had returned, when Coubitant and a few picked associates were left to carry out his schemes of vengeance. Henrich was instantly conducted to the lodge of the old Chief; and brightly did Tisquantum's dark eyes glitter when he beheld the son of his enemy in his power. He praised the skill and the perseverance by which Coubitant had thus procured him the means of revenge; and, taking off his own brilliant coronet of feathers, he placed it on the head of the proud and successful warrior, as a distinguished mark of his approbation.

Coubitant was highly gratified; but his desire for vengeance was stronger than his vanity, and forgetting the honor that had been conferred upon him, he entreated the Chief to allow him instantly to drive his spear into the boy's heart, or else with his own weapon to take the life of the slayer's child.

'Not yet!' replied Tisquantum—and Henrich comprehended the full purport of his words—'not today, Coubitant. I would pour out the blood of the white youth with pomp and ceremony, as an offering to the spirit of my murdered son. Let the boy be fed and refreshed: tomorrow, at break of day, he shall die. Go. I have said it.'

'And will the Sachem give him into my charge until the morning dawns?' inquired Coubitant.

Tisquantum fixed his piercing eye on the savage, and read his malevolent feelings; and he calmly answered, 'No: the victim shall bleed because his father's blood flows in his veins. But he shall not be tortured; for his was not the hand that deprived me of my son. The boy shall remain in my own lodge, and sleep securely for this night beneath the same roof that shelters my last remaining child—my lovely Oriana.'

Had the Chief observed Henrich's changing countenance, he would have perceived that all he said was understood by the intended sufferer. But he marked him not, and the boy commanded himself, and kept silence, determined to await Coubitant's departure before he made one effort to move the Chief to pity. He had, however, no opportunity of trying the effect of his earnest appeal; for Tisquantum ordered one of his attendants to remove him at once to the inner division of the lodge, and to secure him there for the night: and then, motioning Coubitant to retire, and resuming his pipe, he proceeded to 'drink smoke,' as composedly as if his evening repose had not been interrupted.

But, notwithstanding his outward composure, the Nausett chief was not unmoved by the event that had just occurred. The sight of the son of him whose hand had slain his young Tekoa brought back the image of his brave young warrior, as he stood beside him at the fatal burial-ground, full of youthful ardor, to combat the invaders of his land, and the supposed enemies of his race. He recalled his daring look as he mounted the palisade, and placed in his unerring bow the arrow that wounded the English boy. And then he seemed to hear again the sharp report of the white man's musket, and to behold once more the sudden fall of his son, bleeding and expiring, to the ground.

Tisquantum thought on that hour of anguish, when his duties as a chief and a warrior had forbidden all expression of his grief; and he thought of his return to his lodge, where only Oriana remained to welcome him— for the mother of his children, whom he had loved with unusual affection, was dead—and tears gathered in the Sachem's eyes. Oriana had deeply mourned her brother's death; for since she had lost her mother, she had been permitted to enjoy much more of his society than had previously been allowed her; and her father, also, had seemed to transfer to her much of the love that be had borne towards his wife. Now his daughter was his only domestic tie; and his chief object in life was to give her in marriage to a warrior as brave as her young brother, and who would supply to him the place of his departed son.

At present, this prospect was not immediate, for Oriana was only in her fourteenth year; but the Sachem was resolved that she should be worthy of the hand of the greatest warriors of her tribe, and he took pains to have her instructed in every art that was considered valuable or ornamental to an Indian female. Already she could perform the most elaborate patterns in native embroidery on her father's pouches and moccasins; and her own garments were also delicately and fancifully adorned in the same manner, with feathers, and shells, and colored grasses. Besides this accomplishment, her skill in Indian cookery was very great; and she could also use a bow and arrows, or cast a light javelin, or swim across a rapid river, with a grace and activity that delighted her proud father.

Oriana, too, was gentle—as gentle as her mother, and her influence over Tisquantum bade fair to equal that which his much-cherished and deeply regretted wife had exercised over him. That influence had ever been employed in the cause of mercy! and many an enemy, and many a subject, had lived to bless the name of the Squaw-Sachem Oriana, when she had quelled the wrath of the offended Chief, and turned aside his intended vengeance.

It was to the inner apartment of his spacious lodge, where his daughter and her attendants were busily engaged in their domestic occupations, that Henrich bad been led. His arms were still tied behind his back, and the end of the rope that bound them was secured to a post in the wall. The Indian who, at his chief's command, conducted him thither, briefly informed Oriana that he was a prisoner, and desired her women to look to his security: and then he left the captive to his strange and inquisitive jailers.

When Tisquantum had emptied his long pipe, he bethought himself of the young captive's position, and proceeded to his daughter's apartment to give orders for his hospitable entertainment that evening, and his safe lodgment for the night—that night which he was resolved should be his last. As he approached the thick curtain of deer-skins that hung over the aperture between the two apartments, he thought he heard a strange sweet voice speaking the Indian language with a foreign accent; and hastily drawing aside the heavy drapery, he was astonished to see his prisoner, and intended victim, liberated from the cord that had bound him, and reclining on the furs and cushions that formed Oriana's usual resting-place; while his gentle Indian child knelt beside him, and offered him the food of which he was so much in need. Henrich was gratefully thanking her; and as the Sachem entered, he heard him exclaim in mournful accents—

'But why do you thus so kindly treat me? It were better to let me die of hunger and fatigue; for I know that to-morrow my blood is to be shed: the cold knife is to pierce my heart.'

'It shall not be,' replied Oriana, fervently. 'I have said that I will save you.' And then she raised her sparkling eyes as she heard her father's entrance; and springing on her feet, she darted forward, and caught his arm.

'Father!' she cried—and now she spoke so rapidly and energetically, that Henrich could only guess the purport of her words, and read it in her sweet expressive countenance—'Father! do not slay the white boy. He says that he is doomed to die because his father caused my brother's death. But surely Tekoa's generous spirit does not ask the blood of a child. My brother is now happy in the great hunting grounds where our fathers dwell. He feels no wrath against his slayer's son: he never would have sought revenge against an innocent boy. Give me the captive, O my father! and let him grow up in our lodge, and be to me a playfellow and a brother.'

Tisquantum gazed at his child in wonder, and his countenance softened. She saw that he was moved and hastily turning from him, she approached Henrich, who had risen from the couch, and now stood an earnest spectator of the scene, on the issue of which his life or death, humanly speaking, depended. She took his band, and led him to her father, and again pleaded earnestly and passionately for his life; while the touching expression of his own deep blue eyes, and the beauty of his fair young face, added greatly to the power of her appeal.

I have a little sister at home,' said Henrich—and the soft Indian language sounded sweetly from his foreign lips—'and she will weep for me as Oriana has wept for her brother. Let me return to Patupet, and she and my parents will bless you.'

At the mention of his parents, Tisquantum's brow grew dark again. He thought of Rodolph as the destroyer of his son; and he turned away from the two youthful suppliants, whose silent eloquence he felt he could not long resist.

'Your father killed my young Tekoa,' he replied. 'His fire weapon quenched the light of my lodge, and took from me the support of my old age. Should I have pity on his son?'

'But let him dwell in our lodge, and fill my brother's vacant place!' exclaimed Oriana. 'Do not send him back to the white men; and his father, and his mother, and his little sister will still weep for him, and believe him dead.'

The same idea had crossed Tisquantum's breast. He looked again at the boy, and thought how much Oriana's life would be cheered by such a companion. His desire of revenge on Rodolph would also be gratified by detaining his child, and bringing him up as an Indian, so long as his parents believed that he had met with a bloody death; and, possibly, he felt a time might come when the possession of an English captive might prove advantageous to himself and his tribe. All fear of the boy's escaping to his friends was removed from his mind; for he was about to retire from that part of the country to a wild district far to the west, and to join his allies, the Pequodees, in a hunting expedition to some distant prairies. The portion of his tribe over which he was Sachem, or chief, was willing to accompany him; and he had no intention of returning again to the neighborhood of the English intruders, who, he clearly foresaw, would ere long make themselves masters of the soil; and who had already secured to themselves such powerful allies in the Wampanoges—the enemies and rivals of the Nausetts.

Tisquantum weighed all these considerations in his mind; and he resolved to spare the life of his young captive. But he would not at once announce that he had relented from his bloody purpose, and yielded to his child's solicitations. He therefore maintained the severe gravity that usually marked his countenance, and replied—

'But what can the white boy do, that he should fill the place of an Indian chieftain's son? Can he cast the spear, or draw the bow, or wrestle with our brave youths?'

Reviving hope had filled the heart of Henrich with courage, and he looked boldly up into the Sachem's face, and merely answered, 'Try me.'

The brevity and the calmness of the reply pleased the red Chief, and he determined to take him at his word.

'I will,' he said. 'To-morrow you shall show what skill you possess, and your fate shall depend on your success. But how have you learned anything of Indian sports, or of the Indian tongue?'

'I have been much in Mooanam's lodge, and have played with the youths of his village,' replied Henrich; 'and the Sachem was well pleased to see me use a bow and arrow in his woods. And from him, and my young companions, I learnt to speak their tongue.'

'It is good,' said the old Chief, thoughtfully. Then, fixing his penetrating eyes on Henrich again, he hastily inquired: 'And can you use the fire-breathing weapons of your countrymen? and can you teach me to make them?

'I can use them,' answered the boy; 'but I cannot make them. They come from my father's land, beyond the great sea. But,' he added—while a stronger hope of life and liberty beamed in his bright blue eye and flushing face—'send me back to my countrymen, and they will give you muskets for my ransom.'

'No, no!' said the Sachem: and the dark cloud again passed over his countenance. 'Never will I restore you to your father, till he can give me back my son. You shall live, if you can use our Indian weapons; but you shall live and die as an Indian.'

He turned and left the apartment; and the heart of Henrich sank within him. Was he then taken for ever from his parents, and his brother, and sister? Should he behold his friends, and his teacher, no more? And must he dwell with savages, and lead a savage life? Death, he thought, would be preferable to such a lot; and he half resolved to conceal his skill and dexterity in Indian exercises, that Tisquantum might cast him off and slay him, as unfit to dwell among his tribe. But hope soon revived; and his trust in the providential mercy of God restored his spirits, and enabled him even to look upon a lengthened captivity among the red men with composure. Plans for escaping out of their hands, and making his way back to the settlement, filled his mind; and a short residence among the wild men even appeared to offer some attraction to his enterprising spirit. So he turned to Oriana, who stood gazing on his changing and expressive countenance with the deepest interest, and again resumed the conversation which had been interrupted by the entrance of the Chief.

Many questions did those young strangers ask each other relative to their respective homes, and native customs; and Henrich learnt, with much dismay, that the Nausetts under Tisquantum's rule were so soon to change their place of residence. His hopes of escape became less strong, but they were not destroyed: and when he was summoned to pass the night in the Sachem's apartment, he was able to lift up his heart to God in prayer, and to lie down to sleep on the rude couch prepared for him, with a calm trust in His Almighty power and goodness, and a hope that He would see fit to shorten his trials, and restore him to his friends.

The Chief watched him as he knelt in prayer; and when he rose, and prepared to lie down to sleep, he abruptly asked him why he had thus remained on his knees so long?

'I was praying to my God to protect me,' answered Henrich; and a tear rose to his eye, as he remembered how he had knelt every evening with his own beloved family; and thought how his absence, and their probable belief in his death, would sadden the act of worship that would that night be performed in his father's house.

'Do you pray to the Great Spirit?' asked Tisquantum.

'I do!' replied the young Christian. 'I pray to the Great Spirit, who is the God and Father of all men; and I pray to his Son Jesus Christ, who is the friend and Savior of all who love him.'

'It is good!' said the Chief. 'We know the Great Spirit; but we know nothing of the other gods of the white men. Sleep now; for your strength and activity will be tried to-morrow.' And Henrich lay down, and slept long and peacefully.

He was awakened the next morning by the gentle voice of Oriana, who stood beside him, and said, 'You must rise now, and eat with me, before you go out to try your strength and skill. Come to my apartment.'

Henrich opened his eyes, and gazed around him in wonder. But quickly the whole sad reality of his situation came over him, and he felt that he must nerve himself for the coming trial. Soon he followed Oriana to her inner room, where a slight Indian repast of maize and fruits had been prepared by the young Squaw-Sachem and her attendants. Tisquantum had left the lodge, and was now occupied in preparing a spot for the exercise of the white boy's skill. At his side stood Coubitant, silent and gloomy. His indignation at the Chief's merciful intentions towards the intended victim was great; and strongly had he urged him to the immediate slaughter of the captive. But Tisquantum was not to be lightly moved, either to good or evil. He had said that the boy should live, if he proved himself worthy to bear Indian arms, and all the cruel suggestions and arguments that Coubitant could bring forward only made him more resolved to keep his word.

The young savage then forbore to speak, for he saw that it was useless, and he feared to displease his Chief, whose favor was the highest object of his ambition. Since the untimely death of his son, Coubitant had been constantly his companion and attendant, until he had been left near the English settlement to carry out his schemes of revenge. His success in this enterprise a raised him still higher in Tisquantum's estimation; and visions of becoming the son-in-law of the Chief, and eventually succeeding him in his office, already floated in the brain of Coubitant. In a few years, Oriana's hand would be given to some fortunate warrior; and who could have so strong a claim to it as the man who had risked his own life to procure vengeance for her brother's death? Therefore Coubitant held his peace, and checked the expression of his deadly and malignant feelings towards the young prisoner.

Soon Henrich was summoned to the ground where his fate was to be decided, and he was directed to try his powers with several Indian boys of his own age. In shooting with the bow and arrow, he could not, by any means, rival their skill and accuracy of aim; but in casting the spear, and wielding the tomahawk, he showed himself their equal; and when he was made to wrestle with his swarthy and half-naked competitors, the superior height and muscular powers of the British lad enabled him to gain the victory in almost every instance.

Tisquantum was satisfied. He pronounced him worthy to live; and, notwithstanding the opposition of Coubitant, which was once more cautiously manifested, he presented Henrich with the arms that he knew so well how to use, and informed him that he should henceforth dwell in his lodge among his braves, and should no more inhabit the apartments of the women. To a young and generous mind success and approbation are always grateful; and Henrich's eye kindled, and his cheek burned, as he listened to the praises of the Chief, and felt that he owed his life, under Providence, to his own efforts. And when his little friend Oriana came bounding up to him, with joy and exultation in her intelligent countenance, and playfully flung a wreath of flowers across his shoulders in token of victory, he felt that even among these children of the wilderness—these dreaded Nausett Indians—he could find something to love.

In Coubitant, he instinctively felt that he had also something to dread; but the savage tried to conceal his feeling and even to please the Chief and Oriana, by pretending an interest in their young favorite, which for a long time deceived them as to his real sentiments. The bustle of preparation for the intended removal of the encampment began that day—for Tisquantum was now more eager than ever to get beyond the reach of the settlers—and before sunset all was ready. The next morning the march commenced at daybreak, and continued for many days uninterruptedly, until the Chief and his followers reached the residence of his Pequodee allies, when he considered himself safe from pursuit, even if the settlers should attempt it. He therefore halted his party, and took up his abode among his friends, to wait until they were prepared to set out on their hunting expedition to the western prairies. A period of repose was also very needful for the women and children, for the march had been a most fatiguing one. Not only had the Sachem dreaded the pursuit of the injured settlers, and therefore hurried his party to their utmost speed; but the country through which they had traveled was inhabited by the Narragansett tribe, the ancient and hereditary foes of the Pequodees. It was, consequently, desirable for the Nausetts, as allies of the latter, to spend as little time as possible in the territories of their enemies; and little rest ad been permitted to the travelers until they had passed the boundary of the friendly Pequodees.



CHAPTER VI.

'The woods—oh! solemn are the boundless woods; Of the great western world, when day declines, And louder sounds the roll of distant floods, More deep the rustling of the ancient pines; When dimness gathers on the stilly air, And mystery seems o'er every leaf to brood, Awful is it for human heart to bear The might and burden of the solitude!' HEMANS.

Many weeks elapsed after the Nausett party had joined the friendly Pequodees, ere any preparations were made for journeying to the west; and these days were chiefly employed by Henrich in improving his knowledge of the Indian language, and especially of the Nausett dialect, by conversing with Oriana and her young companions, both male and female. He also endeavored to learn as much as possible of the habit and the ideas of the simple people among whom his lot was now cast; for he hoped, at some future time, when he had succeeded in returning to his own countrymen, that such a knowledge might prove useful both to himself and them.

He was treated with much kindness by Tisquantum; and his favor with the Chief ensured the respect and attention of all his dependants and followers. From the day that the white boy had been spared from a cruel and violent death, and established as a regular inmate of Tisquantum's dwelling, it seemed as if he had regarded him as a son, and had adopted him to fill the place of him whose death he so deeply deplored; and Oriana already looked on him as a brother, and took the greatest delight in his society. No apprehensions were now felt of his escaping to the settlement; for the distance which they had traveled through woods, and over hills and plains, to reach the Pequodee encampment, was so great, that it was utterly impossible for any one but an Indian, well accustomed to the country, to traverse it alone. Henrich was, therefore, allowed to enjoy perfect liberty, and to ramble unmolested around the camp; and it was his greatest pleasure to climb to the summit of a neighboring hill, which was crowned by a few ancient and majestic pines, and there to look in wonder and admiration at the scenery around him. To the west, a vast and trackless forest spread as far as the eye could reach, unbroken save by some distant lakes, that shone like clear mirrors in their dark green setting. Trees of gigantic growth rose high above their brethren of the wood, but wild luxuriant creepers, many of them bearing clusters of bright blossoms, had climbed ambitiously to their summits, seeking the light of day, and the warmth of the sunbeams, which could not penetrate the thick underwood that was their birth-place. It was a sea of varied and undulating foliage, beautiful and striking, but almost oppressive to the spirit; and Henrich gazed sadly over the interminable forest, and thought of the weeks, and months—and, possibly, the years that this wilderness was to be his home. Escape, under present circumstances, he felt to be impossible; and he endeavored to reconcile himself to his fate, and to look forward with hope to a dim and uncertain future. Could his parents and Edith but have been assured of his safety, he thought he could have borne his captivity more cheerfully; but to feel that they were mourning him as dead, and that, perhaps, they would never know that his blood had not been cruelly shed by his captors, was hard for the affectionate boy to endure.

To Oriana, alone, could he tell his feelings, and pour out his griefs and anxieties; and Edith herself could not have listened to him with more attention and sympathy than was shown by the young Indian girl. When her domestic duties were accomplished, she would accompany her new friend to his favorite retreat on the hill-top; and there, seated by his side beneath the tall pines, she would hold his hand, and gaze into his sorrowful countenance, and listen to his fond regrets for his distant home, and all its dearly-loved inmates, till tears would gather in her soft black eyes, and she almost wished that she could restore him to his countrymen. But this she was powerless to do, even if she could have made up her mind to the sacrifice of her 'white brother,' as she called him. She had, indeed, wrought upon her father so far as to save his life, and have him adopted into their tribe and family; but she well knew that nothing would ever induce him to give up his possession of Rodolph's son, or suffer his parents to know that he lived.

All this she told to Henrich; and his spirit, sanguine as it was, sickened at the prospect of a lengthened captivity among uncivilized and heathen beings. He gazed mournfully to the east; he looked over the wide expanse of country that he had lately traversed, and his eye seemed to pierce the rising hills, and lofty forests, that lay between him and his cherished home; and in the words of the Psalmist he cried, 'Oh that I had wings as a dove, for then would I flee away and be at rest!'

Would you leave me, my brother?' said Oriana, in reply to this unconscious utterance of his feelings; 'would you leave me again alone, to mourn the brother I have lost?' The Sachem loves you, and I love you, too; and you may be happy in our lodge, and become a brave like our young men.'

'Yes, Oriana, you and your father are kind to me; and I had never known any other mode of life, I might be happy in your lodge. But I cannot forget my parents, and me dear Edith who loved me so fondly, and my little brother also. And then I had a friend—a kind friend, and full of wisdom and goodness—who used to teach me all kinds of knowledge; and, above all, the knowledge of the way to heaven. How can I think that I may, perhaps, never see all these again, and not be sad?' And Henrich buried his face in his hands and wept without restraint.

Oriana gazed at him affectionately, and tears of sympathy filled her large eyes also. But she drew away Henrich's hand, and kissed it, and tried to cheer him in the best way that her simple mind could suggest.

'My brother must not weep,' she said; 'for he is not a child, and our Indian youths are ashamed of tears. Henrich will be a brave some day, and he will delight in hunting, and in war, as our red warriors do; and he will, I know, excel them all in strength and courage. What can he desire more than to be a Nausett warrior?'

'Oh, Oriana,' replied the boy—as he wiped away his tears, and almost smiled at her attempts to console him by such a future prospect—' I desire to return to my home, and my friends, and the worship of my God. Among your people none know anything of the true God, and none believe in His Son. I have no one to speak to me as my parents, and my venerable teacher, used to do; and no one to kneel with me in prayer to the Almighty.'

'Do not you worship the Great Mahneto—the Mighty Spirit from whom every good gift comes?' asked Oriana, with surprise. 'He is the one true God, and all the red men know and worship him.'

'Yes, Oriana, I do worship the one Great Spirit; the God and Father of all men of every color and of every clime. But the Christian's God is far more wise, and good, and merciful than the Indian's Mahneto: and He has told his servants what He is, and how they ought to serve Him.'

'Does your Mahneto speak to you?' asked the Indian girl. 'Could I hear him speak?'

'He has spoken to our fathers long ages ago,' replied Henrich; 'and we have His words written in a book. Oh, that I had that blessed book with me! How it would comfort me to read it now!'

'And you would read it to me, my brother? But tell me some of your Mahneto's words; and tell me why you say He is greater and better than the Good Spirit who protects the red men.'

'I will gladly tell you all I know of the God whom I have been taught to love and worship ever since I was a little child. I wish I could make you love Him too, Oriana, and teach you to pray to Him, and to believe in His Son as your friend and Savior.'

'I will believe all you tell me, dear Henrich,' answered the ingenuous girl; 'for I am sure you would never say the thing that is not.[*] But what do you mean by a Savior? Is it some one who will save you from the power of the evil spirit Hobbamock—the enemy of the red men?'

[Footnote: The Indian expression for speaking a falsehood.]

Then Henrich told her of Jesus the Merciful—Him who came to save a world that was lost and ruined through sin; and to die for those who deserve nothing but wrath and condemnation. Long the youthful teacher and his attentive pupil conversed; and many and strange were the questions that Oriana asked, and that Henrich was enabled, by the help of the Spirit, to answer. The dark searching eyes of the intelligent young Indian were fixed on his, and her glossy black hair was thrown back over her shoulders, while she listened in wonder and admiration to every word that fell from the lips of her' white brother.'

That evening, a new and awakening source of interest was opened to the young captive, and the dreariness of his life seemed almost to have passed away. The affection of Oriana had hitherto been his only solace and comfort, and now the hope of repaying that affection by becoming the humble means of leading her out of the darkness of heathenism, and pointing out to her the way of eternal salvation, raised his spirits, and almost reconciled him to his present banishment from home, and all its cherished joys and comforts.

More deeply than ever did he now regret that he was deprived of all access to the Word of Life, from which he might have read and translated the story of mercy to his young disciple, and have taught her the gracious promises of God. But Henrich had been well taught at home; his truly pious parents had early stored his mind with numerous passages of Scripture; and the effort he now made to recall to his memory all the most interesting stories, and most striking texts, that he had learnt from the Word of God, was the means of fixing them indelibly on his own heart. He never in after life forgot what he now taught to Oriana. The instruction was, as is generally the case, quite as much blessed to the teacher as to the learner; and Henrich was himself surprised to find how readily he could call to mind the very passage he wanted; and how easily he could convey its import to Oriana in her own melodious language.

Frequently were these interesting conversations renewed, and never without Henrich's perceiving, with thankfulness, that Oriana was making progress in spiritual knowledge, and also in quickness of understanding and general intelligence; for it may truly be said, that no kind of learning awakens the dormant powers of the intellect, or quickens the growth of the mind so effectually, as the knowledge of the one true God, who created the spirit, and of his Son who died to redeem it from the ignominious and degrading bondage, of sin and Satan. Henrich had, at first, imagined that it would be utterly impossible for him to find an intelligent companion among the savage race into whose hands he bad fallen and he had deeply felt that sense of loneliness which a cultivated mind, however young, must experience in the society of those whose ideas and feelings are altogether beneath its own, and who can in no way sympathize with any of its hopes, and fears, and aspirations. But now the well-informed English boy began to perceive that the superiority of the white men over the dark aborigines of America might, possibly, arise much more from difference of education, than from difference of race and color. He remembered, also, how ardently he had desired to share with the pious Brewster and Winslow, in their projected plans for the conversion of the natives; and he hoped that, young and comparatively ignorant as he knew himself to be, it might, perhaps, please God to make him the instrument of bestowing spiritual blessings on some, at least, of the heathen among whom he dwelt. He, therefore, resolved to employ all 'his powers of argument and persuasion to convince the mind, and touch the heart of the young Squaw-Sachem; not only for the sake of her own immortal soul, but also in the hope that her influence, if she became a sincere Christian, might greatly tend to the conversion of her father and his tribe.

Since the night when Tisquantum had seen his young captive kneel in prayer, and had questioned him as to the object of his worship, he had never spoken to him on the subject of his religion; and, Henrich had feared to address the stern old Chief, or to introduce a theme which, though constantly present to his own mind, and the source of all his consolation, would, probably, he rejected with scorn and contempt by the Sachem.

The more the Christian boy became acquainted with the character of Tisquantum, the stronger became this fear, and the more he despaired of any influence proving sufficiently strong to break the chains of error and superstition that bound him to heathenism. The Chief was a distinguished Powow, or conjuror; and was regarded by his own people, and even by many other tribes, as possessing great super natural powers. His pretensions were great, and fully accredited by his subjects, who believed that he could control the power of the subordinate evil spirits, and even exercise a certain influence on Hobbamock himself. He was called a Mahneto, or priest; as being the servant or deputy of the Great Mahneto, and permitted by him to cure diseases by a word or a charm, to bring down rain on the thirsty land, and to foretell the issue of events, such as the results of wars or negotiations. The influence which these acknowledged powers gave him over other tribes besides his own was very gratifying to his pride and ambition; and could Henrich hope that he, a young and inexperienced boy, could have wisdom or eloquence sufficient to 'bring down the high thoughts' that exalted him, and to persuade him to 'become a disciple of the meek and lowly Jesus? No; he knew that such a hope was, humanly speaking, vain: but he knew, also, that 'with God all things are possible'; and he ceased not to pray that the Spirit of light and truth might enter the soul of the heathen Chief, and banish the spirit of evil that now reigned so triumphantly there.

Henrich's desire to see the Sachem become a Christian was increased in the same measure that his hope of its accomplishment became less; for the more intimately he became acquainted with him, the more he found in his natural character that was interesting, and even estimable. Tisquantum was brave; and he was also generous and sincere, far beyond the generality of his race. We have said that the influence of his wife, whom he had, loved to an unusual degree for an Indian, had tended to soften his temper and disposition; and his regret for her loss, and his anxiety that his only daughter should resemble her, had made him more domestic in his habits than most of his brother chiefs. He was kind, also, when not roused to harshness and cruelty by either revenge or superstition; and he was capable of strong attachments where he had once taken a prepossession in favor of any individual.

Such a prepossession he had formed for his English captive on the evening when his child had pleaded for his life, and when his own ingenuous and beautiful countenance had joined so eloquently in her supplications. No insidious efforts of the wily Coubitant had availed to change the Sachem's sentiments; and he continued to treat Henrich as an adopted son, and to allow him all the privileges and indulgences that had once been bestowed on his beloved Tekoa. The white boy was permitted to enjoy full and unrestricted liberty, now that he was beyond all possible reach of his countrymen. He was encouraged to hunt, and sport, and practice all athletic games and exercises with the Nausett and Pequodee youths; and he was presented with such of the arms and ornaments of the lost Tekoa as were deemed suitable to his use, and his unusually tall and muscular figure.

Often when adorned with these strange and curious specimens of Indian art and ingenuity, did Haunch smile to think how Edith and Ludovico would wonder and admire if they could see him thus attired: and then he would sigh as he remembered that months and years must probably elapse—and possibly even his life might come to an end—ere he could hope to see their loved countenances, or to excite their surprise and interest by a relation of all his perils and adventures. To Oriana, alone, could he unburden his mind on such subjects; and from her he always met with deep attention and heartfelt sympathy; but every day she felt his presence to be more necessary to her happiness, and her dread of his escaping to his own people to become greater. Not only did she shrink from the idea of parting with her 'white brother '—her newly-found and delightful friend and companion—but daily, as she grew in the knowledge of Henrich's religion, and learnt to know and love the Christian's God and Savior more sincerely, did she fear the possibility of losing her zealous young teacher, and being deprived of all intercourse with the only civilized and enlightened being whom she had ever known.

She therefore rejoiced when the time arrived for leaving the Pequodee village, and pursuing the intended route to the west; for in spite of the distance and the many difficulties and obstacles that divided Henrich from the British settlement, she had lived in continual fear and expectation of either seeing a band of the mighty strangers come to demand his restitution, or revenge his supposed death; or else of his escaping from the camp, and braving every danger, in the attempt to return to his happy Christian home. Henrich often assured her with sincerity that he had no idea of venturing on so hopeless an attempt; but whenever the Indian girl saw his eyes fixed sadly on the eastern horizon, and dimmed, as they often were, by tears of sad remembrance, she felt her fears again arise, and longed more earnestly to leave the spot, and plunge into the trackless forest that lay between the Pequodee encampment and she proposed hunting grounds.

The summer had passed away and autumn was beginning to tinge the varied foliage of the forest with all its gaudy hues of yellow, and scarlet, and purple, when the Nausetts, and such of their Pequodee friends as desired to share in their hunting expedition, set forth from the village. Many women and girls accompanied the caravan, the greater part on foot, and bearing on their shoulders either the younger children, or a large pack of baggage; while their husbands, and fathers, and brothers, marched before them, encumbered only with their arms and hunting accoutrements. Such was, and still is, the custom among the uncivilized tribes of America, where women have ever been regarded as being very little more exulted than the beasts that perish, and have been accustomed to meet with scarcely more attention and respect. But there are exceptions to this, as to every other rule; and where women have possessed unusual strength of mind, or powers of influence, their condition has been proportionately better. Such had been the ease with Tisquantum's wife: and he had ever treated her with gentleness and respect, and had never imposed on her any of those servile duties that commonly fall to the lot of Indian squaws, even though they may be the wives and daughters of the most exalted chiefs. To his daughter the Sachem was equally considerate, and none but the lightest toils of domestic Indian life were ever required from her; nor was any burden more weighty than her own bow and quiver ever laid upon her slender and graceful shoulders, when she followed her father in his frequent wanderings.

On the present occasion, as the journey promised to be unusually long and uninterrupted, Tisquantum obtained for her a small and active horse of the wild breed, that abounds in the western woods and plains; and of which valuable animals the Pequodees possessed a moderate number, which they had procured by barter from the neighboring Cree Indians. The purchase of this steed gave Henrich the first opportunity of remarking the Indian mode of buying and selling, and the article that formed their medium of commerce, and was employed as money. This consisted of square and highly-polished pieces of a peculiar kind of a peculiar muscle-shell, called quahock, in each of which a hole was bored, to enable it to be strung on a slender cord. The general name for this native money was wampum, or white, from the color of those shells most esteemed; but a dark-colored species was called luki, or black; and both were used, of various forms and sizes, as ornaments by the warriors, and their copper-colored wives and children.

Several strings of wampum, both white and purple, were silently offered by the Sachem for the horse which he selected as most suitable for his daughter's use, and, after a pause, were as silently rejected by the possessor. Another pause ensued; and Tisquantum added a fresh string of the precious shell to the small heap that lay before him; and the same scene was repeated, until the owner of the horse was satisfied, when he placed the halter in the hands of the purchaser, gathered up his treasure, and, with a look of mournful affection at the faithful creature whom he was resigning to the power of another master, hurried away to his wigwam.

The next day the march began; and proud and happy was Oriana as she closely followed her father's steps, mounted on her new palfrey, and led by her adopted brother; while by her side bounded a favorite young dog, of the celebrated breed now called Newfoundland, which had been given to her brother as a puppy just before his melancholy death, and had been her only playfellow and loved companion, until Henrich had arrived to rival the faithful creature in her affections. At his request, the dog received the name of Rodolph, in memory of his father; and Henrich was never tired of caressing him, and teaching him to fetch and carry, and to plunge into his favorite element, and bring from the foamy torrent, or the placid lake, any object which he directed him to seize. He was a noble fellow, and returned the care and kindness of his new friend with all the ardor and faithfulness of his nature. It was his duty to accompany Henrich in all his expeditions in pursuit of game, and to bring to his feet every bird, or small animal, that his increasing skill in archery enabled him to pierce with his light and bone-pointed arrows.

During his residence in the Pequodee village, he had generally gone on such expeditions in company with several other men and boys; and Oriana had, consequently, enjoyed little opportunity of perceiving how much he had improved in dexterity since he had made his first trial before his captors. But now, as they traversed the woods together, he frequently aimed, at her desire, at some brilliant bird, or bounding squirrel; and the young maiden exulted at his success, and at the sagacity and obedience of Rodolph in bringing her the game.

The constant occupation, and the change of scene that Henrich enjoyed during this journey, tended greatly to raise his spirits, and even to reconcile him to his new mode of life. He did not forget his friends and his home—he did not even cease to think of them with the same regret and affection; but it was with softened feelings, and with a settled hope of eventually returning to them after a certain period of wandering and adventure. The kind of life which he had often longed to try was now his lot, and he enjoyed it under, peculiarly favorable circumstances; for he partook of its wildness and excitement, without enduring any of its hardships. No wonder, then, that a high-spirited and active-minded youth of Henrich's age, should often forget that his wanderings were compulsory; and should feel cheerful, and even exhilarated, as he roamed through the boundless primeval forests, or crossed the summits of the ranges of lofty hills that occasionally lifted their barren crags above the otherwise unbroken sea of foliage.

Pitching the camp for the night was always a season of excitement and pleasure to the young traveler, and his lively companion, Oriana. The selection of an open glade, and the procuring wood and water, and erecting temporary huts, were all delightful from their novelty. And, then, when all was done, and fires were kindled, and the frugal evening meal was finished, it was pleasant to sit with Oriana beneath the lofty trees, whose smooth straight trunks rose like stately columns, and to watch the glancing beams of the setting sun as they shone on the varied foliage now tinted with all the hues of autumn, and listen to the sighing of the evening breeze, that made solemn music while it swept through the forest. These were happy and tranquil hours; for then Henrich would resume the interesting topics to which his dusky pupil was never weary of listening. He would tell her—but no longer with tears—of his home, and all its occupations and joys; he would repeat the holy instructions that he had himself received; and, when far removed from the observation of other eyes and ears, he would teach her to kneel by his side, as Edith used to do, and to join him in supplications to 'the High and Lofty One that inhabiteth eternity'; but who yet listens to the humblest prayers that are addressed to Him in sincerity, and hears every petition that is offered up in the name of His beloved Son.

The heart of Oriana was touched; and with a beautiful child-like simplicity, she received all the blessed truths that her 'white brother' taught her. Her affections were strongly drawn towards the character of Jesus the Merciful, as she always called the Savior; and she became sensitively alive to the guilt of every sin, as showing ingratitude to the Benefactor who had laid down His life for His creatures. Oriana was, in fact, a Christian—a young and a weak one, it is true: but she possessed that faith which alone can constitute any one 'a branch in the true vine'; and Henrich now felt that lie had found a sister indeed.

As the young Indian grew in grace, she grew also in sweetness of manner and refinement of taste and behavior. She was no longer a savage, either in mind or in conduct; and Henrich often looked at her in wonder and admiration, when she had made her simple toilette by the side of a clear stream, and had decked her glossy raven hair with one of the magnificent water lilies that be had gathered for her on its brink: and he wished that his mother and his fair young sister could behold his little Indian beauty, for he knew that they would love her, and would forget that she had a dusky skin, and was born of a savage and heathen race.



CHAPTER VII.

'We saw thee, O stranger, and wept! We looked for the youth of the sunny glance, Whose step was the fleetest in chase or dance! The light of his eye was a joy to see; The path of his arrows a storm to flee! But there came a voice from a distant shore; He was call'd—he his found 'midst his tribe no more! He is not in his place when the night fire, burn; But we look for him still—he will yet return! His brother sat with a drooping brow, In the gloom of the shadowing cypress bough. We roused him—we bade him no longer pine; For we heard a step—but that step was thine.' HEMANS.

'What was that cry of joy, Oriana?' exclaimed Henrich, as one evening during their journey, he and his companion had strayed a little from their party, who were seeking a resting-place for the night. 'What was that cry of joy: and who is this Indian youth who has sprung from the ground so eagerly, and is now hurrying towards us from that group of overhanging trees? Is he a friend of yours?'

'I know him not!' replied Oriana. 'I never passed through this forest before: but I have heard that it is inhabited by the Crees. They are friendly to our allies, the Pequodees, so we need not fear to meet them.'

As she spoke, the young stranger rapidly approached them, with an expression of hope and expectation on his animated countenance; but this changed as quickly to a look of deep despondence and grief, when he had advanced within a few paces, and fixed his searching eyes en Henrich's face.

'No!' he murmured, in a low and mournful voice, and clasping his hands in bitterness of disappointment.'No; it is not Uncas. It is not my brother of the fleet foot, and the steady hand. Why does he yet tarry so long? Four moons have come, and have waned away again, since he began his journey to the land of spirits; and I have sat by his grave, and supplied him with food and water, and watched and wept for his return; and yet he does not come. O, Uncas, my brother! when shall I hear thy step, and see thy bright glancing eye? I will go back, and wait, and hope again.'

And the young Indian turned away, too much absorbed in his own feelings to take any further notice of Henrich and Oriana, who, both surprised and affected at his words and manner, followed him silently. Several other Indians of the Cree tribe now made their appearance among the trees, and hastened towards the travelers. But a look of disappointment was visible on every countenance: and the young travelers wondered greatly.[1 and 2]

[Footnote 1: 'J'ai passe moi-meme chez une peuplade Indienne, qui se prenait a pleurer a la vue d'un voyageur, parce qu'il lui rappelait des amis partis pour la contree des Ames, et depuis long-temps en voyage.' —CHATEAUBRIAND.]

[Footnote 2: 'They fancy their deceased friends and relatives to be only gone on a journey; and, being in constant expectation of their return, look for them vainly amongst foreign travelers.'—PICART.]

But, though evidently grieved at not meeting the being they looked for so earnestly, the elder Crees did not forget the duties of hospitality. With simple courtesy they invited Henrich and his companion to accompany them to their wigwams, which were situated in a beautiful glade close by, and were only concealed by the luxuriant growth of underwood, that formed a sort of verdant and flowering screen around them. The invitation was gratefully accepted; for the countenances of the Crees inspired confidence, and Oriana knew that her father intended to visit a settlement of these friendly people, in the district they were now traversing. She also felt her curiosity strongly excited by what had just occurred, and she longed for an explanation of the conduct of the interesting young savage who had first accosted them.

She therefore requested one of their new acquaintances to go in search of the main body of their party, and to inform the Sachem that she and Henrich had preceded them to the wigwams; and then—with a dignity and composure that were astonishing in one so young and accustomed to so wild a life—she guided her palfrey into the narrow path that wound through the undergrowth of evergreens, while Henrich walked by her side, and Rodolph bounded before her.

They came to the spot where the young Indian sat by a grave; and tears were falling from his eyes as he gazed at the grass-covered mound, around which wore arranged several highly-carved and ornamented weapons, and articles of attire; and also a small quantity of firewood, and food, and tobacco, intended for the use of the departed on his long journey to the land of spirits. This is a well-known custom of most of the North American tribes; but the Crees have several superstitions peculiar to themselves, especially that melancholy one to which we have just alluded, and which subjects them to such lengthened sorrow and disappointment; for they watch and look for the return of their lost and lamented friends, who can never come again to gladden their eyes on earth. O that they were taught to place their hopes of a blessed reunion with those they love on the only sure foundation for such hopes—even on Him who is 'the Resurrection and the Life!' Then they need never be disappointed.

It was this strange expectation of the reappearance, in human form, of the lately dead, that occasioned the incident we have just related. An epidemic disease had been prevalent in the Cree village; and, among those who had fallen victims to it, Uncas, the eldest orphan son of the principal man of the village, was the most deeply regretted, and his return was the most anxiously desired.

Especially was this vain hope cherished by his younger brother Jyanough, to whom he had been an object of the fondest love and most unbounded admiration; and who daily, as the evening closed, took fresh food and water to the grave, and sat there till night closed in, calling on Uncas, and listening for his coming footsteps. Then he retired sadly to his wigwam, to lament his brother's continued absence, and to hope for better success the following evening. During each night the dogs of the village, or the wild animals of the forest, devoured the food designed for Uncas; but Jyanough believed it had been used by his brother's spirit, and continued still to renew the store, and to hope that, at length, the departed would show himself, and would return to dwell in his wigwam.

When Haunch approached the grave, leading Oriana's pony, the mourner looked up, and gazed in his face again with that sad and inquiring look. But now it did not change to disappointment, for he knew that the stranger was not Uncas. There was even pleasure in his countenance as the clear glance of the English boy's deep blue eye met his own; and he rose from his seat at the head of the grave, and, going up to Henrich, gently took his hand, and said—

'Will the white stranger be Jyanough's brother? His step is free, and his eyes are bright, and his glance goes deep into Jyanough's heart. Will the pale-face be the friend of him who has now no friend; for four moons are guile and Uncas does not answer to my call?'

Henrich and Jyanough were strangers: they were altogether different in race, in education, and in their mode of thinking and feeling. Yet there was one ground of sympathy between them, of which the young Indian seemed instinctively conscious. Both had recently known deep sorrow; and both had felt that sickening sense of loneliness that falls on the young heart when suddenly divided from all it most dearly loves, by death or other circumstances. Jyanough and his elder brother Uncas had been deprived of both their parents, not many months before the fatal disease broke out which had carried off so many victims amongst the Crees. The orphan youths had then become all-in-all to each other, and their mutual attachment had excited the respect and admiration of the whole village, of which, at his father's death, Uncas became the leading man. Had he lived his brother would have assisted him in the government and direction of that portion of the tribe but when he fell before the desolating pestilence, Jyanough was too young and inexperienced to be made Sachem, and the title was conferred on a warrior who was deemed more capable of supporting the dignity of the community. Thenceforth the youth was alone in his wigwam. He had no sister to under take its domestic duties, and no friend with whom it pleased him to dwell. He saw something in Henrich's countenance that promised sympathy, and he frankly demanded his friendship; and the open-hearted English boy did not refuse to bestow it on the young Indian.

He spoke to him in his own tongue; and Jyanough's black eyes sparkled with joy as he heard words of kindness from the lips of the pale-faced stranger. Henrich's height and manly figure made him appear much older than he really was; and as he and his new friend walked together towards the village, he seemed to be Jyanough's equal in age and strength, although the young savage was several years his senior. As they entered the glade that was surrounded by lofty trees, and studded with wigwams, Tisquantum and the rest of the party approached by a path on the other side, and they all met in the center of the open space, and were welcomed by the friendly Crees. Wigwams were appointed to the Sachem and his daughter, and the most distinguished of the Nausetts and their Pequodee allies; while the inferior Indians of both tribes were directed to form huts for themselves beneath the neigh boring trees and all were invited to partake freely of the hospitality of their hosts, and to rest at the Cree settlement for several days, before they resumed their journey.