Jyanough conducted his English friend to his own wigwam, which was neatly furnished, and adorned with native tools and weapons. He bade him repose his tired limbs on Uncas' deserted couch; and while Henrich lay on the bed of soft grass covered with deer skins, that occupied one corner of the hut, the Indian youth busied himself in preparing an evening repast for his guest. The chief article of this simple supper consisted of nokake, a kind of meal made of parched maize or Indian corn, which Jyanough mixed with water in a calabash bowl, and, having well kneaded it, made it into small cakes, and baked them on the embers of his wood-fire. The nokake, in its raw state, constitutes the only food of many Indian tribes when on a journey. They carry it in a bag, or a hollow leathern girdle; and when they reach a brook or pond, they take a spoonful of the dry meal, and then one of water, to prevent its choking them. Three or four spoonfuls are sufficient for a meal for these hardy and abstemious people; and, with a few dried shellfish, or a morsel of deer's flesh, they will subsist on it for months.

Such viands, with the addition of some wild fruits from the forest, were all that Jyanough had to offer to his guest; but Henrich had known privation at home, and he had become accustomed to Indian fare. The kindness, also, and the courtesy of the untutored savage, as he warmly expressed his pleasure at receiving him into has wigwam, were so engaging, that the young traveler would cheerfully have put up with worse accommodation.

From Jyanough he now heard the story of his sorrows, which deeply interested him; and, in return, he told his host all that he could remember of his own past life, from his residence in Holland, and his removal to America, even till the moment when he and Oriana had approached the Cree village that evening The red man listened with profound attention, and constantly interrupted the narrator with intelligent questions on every subject that was interesting to him. But especially was his curiosity awakened when Henrich, in speaking of his grief at being torn from all his friends and relations, and his horror when he had anticipated a sudden and violent death, alluded to his trust in God as the only thing that had then supported him under his trials and sufferings, and still enabled him to hope for the future. The young Christian was not slow in answering all his inquiries as to the nature of the white man's Mahneto, and explaining to him why the true believer can endure, even with cheerfulness, afflictions and bereavements that are most trying to flesh and blood, in the confident hope that God will over-rule every event to his people's good, and will eventually restore all that they have lost.

'Then if I worship your Keechee-Mahneto[*] eagerly asked Jyanough, will he give back to me my brother Uncas? I have called on my Mahneto for four long moons in vain. I have offered him the best of my weapons, and the chief of my prey in hunting; and I have promised to pour on Uncas' grave the blood of the first prisoner I capture in war, or the first of our enemies that I can take by subtlety. Still Mahneto does not hear me. Tell me, then, pale-face, would your God hear me?'

[Footnote: Keechee-Mahneto or Great Master of Life, is the name given by the Crees to their notion of the Supreme Being. Maatche-Mahneto is the Great Spirit of Evil.]

Henrich was much moved at the impassioned eagerness of the Indian, whose naturally mild and pensive expression was now changed for one of bitter disappointment, and even of ferocity, and then again animated with a look of anxious hope and inquiry.

'Yes, Jyanough,' he replied, with earnest solemnity; 'my God will hear you; but he will not give you back your brother in this world. If you learn to believe in Him; and to serve Him, and to pray to Him in sincerity, He will guide you to that blessed land where, after death, all His people meet together, and where there is neither sorrow nor separation.'

'But is Uncas there?' cried the young savage. 'Is my brother there? For I will serve no Mahneto who will not restore me to him!'

Our young theologian was disconcerted, for a moment, at this puzzling question, which has excited doubts and difficulties in wiser heads than his, end to which Scripture gives no direct reply. He paused awhile; and then he remembered that passage in the second chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, where the Apostle is speaking of the requirements of the law, and goes on to say, 'When the Gentiles which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto themselves: which show the work of the law written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing or else excusing one another.' 'If St. Paul could say this of the severe and uncompromising law, surely,' thought Henrich 'the Gospel of love and mercy must hold out equal hope for those heathen who perish in involuntary ignorance, but who have acted up to that law of conscience which was their only guide.' He also recollected that Jesus himself, when on earth, declared, that 'He that knew not, and did commit things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes': and, therefore, he felt justified in permitting the young Indian to hope that, hereafter, he might again behold that brother whose virtues and whose affection were the object of his pride and his regret.

'I believe,' he replied, 'that your brother—who you say was always kind, and just, and upright while he lived on earth—is now, through the mercy of God, in a state of happiness: and I believe that, if you also act up to what you know to be right, you will join him there, and dwell with him for ever. But I can tell you how to attain a more perfect happiness, and to share the highest joys of heaven in the kingdom that God has prepared for His own son. I can tell you what He has declared to be His will with regard to all His human creatures; even that they should love that Son, and look to Him as their Savior and their King. O, Jyanough, ask Oriana if she is not happier since she learnt to love and worship the God of the Christians!—the only God who can be just, and yet most merciful!'

In the vehemence of his feelings, Henrich bad rather outstripped his companion's powers of following and comprehending him. He saw this in Jyanough's wandering and incredulous eyes; and he carefully and patiently proceeded to explain to him the first rudiments of religion, as he had done to Oriana: and to reply to all his doubts and questions according to the ability that God gave him. A willing learner is generally a quick one; and Henrich was well pleased with his second pupil. If he was not ready to relinquish his old ideas and superstitions, he was, at least, well inclined to listen to the doctrines of his new friend, and even to receive them in connection with many of his heathen opinions. Time, and the grace of God, Henrich knew, could only cause these to give place to a purer belief, and entirely banish the 'unclean birds' that dwelt in the 'cage' of the young Indian's mind. But the fallow ground had already been, in a manner, broken up, and some good seed scattered on the surface: and Henrich lay down to rest with a fervent prayer that the dew of the Spirit might fall upon it, and cause it to grow, and to bring forth fruit.

From the time of Henrich's captivity, he bad endeavored to keep up in his own mind a remembrance of the Sabbath, or the Lord's Day (as it was always called by the Puritans); and, as far as it was in his power to do so, he observed it as a day of rest from common occupations and amusements. On that day, he invariably declined joining any hunting or fishing parties; and he also selected it as the time for his longest spiritual conversations with Oriana; as he desired that she, also, should learn to attach a peculiar feeling of reverence to a day that must be sacred to every Christian, but which was always observed with remarkable strictness by the sect to which Henrich belonged.

In this, as in all other customs that the young pale-face wished to follow, he was unopposed by Tisquantum; who seemed entirely indifferent as to the religious feelings or social habits of his adopted son, so long as he acquired a skill in the arts of war and hunting: and, in these respects, Henrich's progress fully answered his expectations. He was, like most youths of his age, extremely fond of every kind of sport; and his strength and activity—which had greatly increased since he had adopted the wild life of the Indians—rendered every active exercise easy and delightful to him. He consequently grew rapidly in the Sachem's favor, and in that of all his companions, who learnt to love his kind and courteous manners, as much as they admired his courage and address. One only of the red men envied him the esteem that he gained, and hated him for it. This was Coubitant—the aspirant for the chief place in Tisquantum's favor, and for the honor of one day becoming his son-in-law. From the moment that the captor's life had been spared by the Sachem, and he had been disappointed of his expected vengeance for the death of his friend Tekoa, the savage had harbored in his breast a feeling of hatred towards the son of the slayer, and had burned with a malicious desire for Henrich s destruction. This feeling he was compelled, as we have observed, to conceal from Tisquantum; but it only gained strength by the restraint imposed on its outward expression, and many were the schemes that he devised for its gratification. At present, however, he found it impossible to execute any of them; and the object of his hate and jealousy was happily unconscious that he had so deadly an enemy continually near him. An instinctive feeling had, indeed, caused Henrich to shun the fierce young Indian, and to be less at ease in his company than in that of the other red warriors; but his own generous and forgiving nature forbade his suspecting the real sentiments entertained towards him by Coubitant, or even supposing that his expressions of approval and encouragement were all feigned to suit his own evil purposes.

Oriana had never liked him; and time only strengthened the prejudice she felt against him. She knew that he hoped eventually to make her his wife—or rather his slave—for Coubitant was not a man to relax from any of the domestic tyranny of his race; and the more she saw of her 'white brother,' and the more she heard from him of the habits and manners of his countrymen, and of their treatment of their women, the more she felt the usual life of an Indian squaw to be intolerable. Even the companionship of the young females of her own race became distasteful to her; for their ignorance, and utter want of civilization, struck painfully on her now partially cultivated and awakened mind, and made her feel ashamed of the coarseness of taste and manners occasionally displayed by her former friends and associates. In the Christian captive alone had she found, since her mother's death, a companion who could sympathize in her tastes and feelings, which had ever been above the standard of any others with whom she was acquainted. And Henrich could do more than sympathize in her aspirations—he could instruct her how they might be fully realized in the attainment of divine knowledge, and the experience of Christian love. No wonder, then, that Henrich held already the first place in her heart and imagination, and was endowed by her lively fancy with every quality and every perfection, both of mind and body, that she could conceive to herself.

The simple-minded girl made no concealment of her preference for the young stranger, whom she regarded as a brother—but a brother in every way immeasurably her superior—and her father never checked her growing attachment. The youth of both parties, the position that Henrich occupied in his family as his adopted son, and the difference of race and color, prevented him from even anticipating that a warmer sentiment than fraternal affection could arise between them; and he fully regarded his daughter as the future inmate and mistress of an Indian warrior's lodge—whether that of Coubitant or of some other brave, would, he considered, entirely depend on the comparative prowess in war and hunting, and the value of the presents that would be the offering of those who claimed her hand. That she should exercise any choice in the matter never occurred to him; and, probably, had he foreseen that such would be the case, and that the choice would fill on the son of a stranger—on the pale-faced captive whose father had slain her only brother—he would have removed her from such dangerous influence. But he thought not of such consequences resulting from the intimacy of Henrich and Oriana: he only saw that his child was happy, and that she daily improved in grace and intelligence, and in the skilful and punctual performance of all her domestic duties; and he was well satisfied that he had not shed the blood of the Christian youth on the grave of his lost Tekoa. His own esteem and affection for his adopted son also continued to increase; and, young as Henrich was, the influence of his superior cultivation of mind, and rectitude of principle, was felt even by the aged Chief, and caused him to treat him, at times, with a degree of respect that added bitterness to Coubitant's malicious feelings.

He saw how fondly Oriana regarded her adopted brother, and personal jealousy made him more clear-sighted as to the possibility of her affection ripening into love than her father had as yet become; and gladly would the rival of the unsuspecting Henrich have blackened him in the eyes of the Chieftain, and caused him to be banished from the lodge, had he been able to find any accusation against him. But in this he invariably failed; for the pale-face was brave, honest, and truthful, to a degree that baffled the ingenuity of his wily foe: and Coubitant found that, instead of lowering Henrich in the regard of the Sachem, he only excited him to take his part still more, and also ran a great risk of losing all the favor which he had himself attained in Tisquantum's eyes.

The sudden friendship that the young Jyanough had conceived for the white stranger, and the consequent favor with which he was looked upon by Oriana, tended still more to irritate the malignant savage; and when, a few days after the arrival of Tisquantum's party at the Cree village, he saw the three young friends seated amicably together beneath a shadowing tree, and evidently engaged in earnest conversation, he could not resist stealing silently behind them, and lurking in the underwood that formed a thick background to their position, in order to listen to the subject of their discourse. How astonished and how indignant was he to find that Henrich was reasoning eloquently against the cruel and ridiculous superstitions of the Indian tribes, and pointing out to his attentive hearers the infinite superiority of the Christian's belief and the Christian's practice! The acquiescence that Oriana expressed to the simple but forcible arguments of the pale-face added to his exasperation; and he was also angry, as well as astonished, to perceive that the young Cree, although he was yet unconvinced, was still a willing listener, and an anxious inquirer as to the creed of his white friend.

Maddened with rage, and excited also by the hope of at length arousing the anger of the Sachem against the Christian youth, he forgot his former caution, and hurried away, with quick and noiseless step, to the wigwam occupied by Tisquantum, and broke unceremoniously upon his repose as he sat, in a half-dreaming state, on the soft mat that covered the floor, and 'drank smoke' from his long, clay pipe.

With vehement gestures, Coubitant explained to the Sachem the cause of his sudden interruption, and implored him to listen to the counsel of his most faithful friend and subject, and to lose no time in banishing from his favor and presence one who showed himself unworthy of all the benefits he had heaped upon him, and who employed the life that had been so unduly spared in perverting the mind of his benefactor's only child. In vain his eloquence—in vain his wrath. Tisquantum regarded him calmly until he had exhausted his torrent of passionate expostulations, and then, quietly removing the pipe from his lips, he replied, with his and decision—

'My brother is angry. His zeal for the honor of Mahneto has made him forget his respect for the Sachem and the Sachem's adopted son. The life of the white stranger was spared that he might bring joy to the mournful eyes of Oriana. He has done so. My daughter smiles again, and it is well. Coubitant may go.'

He then resumed his pipe, and, closing his eyes again, gave himself up to the drowsy contemplations, which the entrance of Coubitant had interrupted; and the disappointed warrior retired with a scowl on his dark brow, and aggravated malice in his still darker heart.



CHAPTER VIII.

'They proceed from evil to evil, and they know not me, saith the Lord' JER. IX, 3.

The indifference of Tisquantum on the subject of the religious opinions that his daughter might imbibe from her Christian companion, may seem strange. But the Sachem, though a heathen, was, in fact, no fanatic. He believed—or professed to believe—that he was himself in the possession of supernatural powers; and so long as these pretensions were acknowledged, and he continued to enjoy the confidence and veneration of his ignorant countrymen, he was perfectly satisfied. Henrich had also, on their first acquaintance, distinctly professed his faith in the existence and the power of the Great Mahneto, or Master of Life; and this was all the religion—properly so called—of which Tisquantum had any idea. He did not, therefore, give himself any concern as to the other objects of his adopted son's belief or worship; neither did he care to prevent Oriana from listening to the doctrines of the pale-face, so long as she continued obedient and gentle, and neglected none of the duties of an Indian squaw.

The feelings of Coubitant were different. Not only did he burn with an eager desire to deprive his rival of the Sachem's love and esteem, but he also entertained a strong abhorrence of the religion of the white men, as he had seen it practiced, and knew it was disseminated, by the Spanish settlers in Mexico, whither he had traveled in his early youth. In his eyes, these Christians were base idolaters; for such was the impression made on him by the images and crucifixes that he beheld, and the marks of veneration that were paid to these idols of wood and stone, by the superstitious and degenerate Spaniards of that district. When, therefore, he heard Henrich endeavoring to inculcate the worship of Jesus, as the Son of God, on Oriana and Jyanough, he not unnaturally regarded him as a believer in all the deities whose images he had seen associated with that of Jesus, and receiving equal homage.

Such, unhappily, has too often been the impression made on the minds of the heathen, in every quarter of the globe, by the vain and superstitious observances of the Roman Church, when her ministers have proposed to their acceptance so corrupt a form of Christianity, instead of the pure and holy doctrines of unadulterated Scripture. To those nations already given over to idolatry it has appeared that their civilized teachers were only offering them another kind of image- worship; but to the Indians of North America—who make use of no images of their deity, and generally acknowledge but one Great Spirit of universal power and beneficence, and one Spirit of evil—the carved and painted figures of the Spanish invaders naturally gave the idea of a multitude of gods; and, in some of them, excited unbounded indignation and hatred. This was the case with Coubitant; who, though totally uninfluenced by any love or fear of the Great Mahneto whom he professed to worship, was yet—like many other bigots of various countries and creeds—keenly jealous of any innovations in the religion of his nation; and ready to oppose, and even to exterminate, all who attempted to subvert it.

He now regarded Henrich as such an aggressor on the national faith and practice; and he consequently hated him with a redoubled hatred, and ceased not to plot in secret his ultimate destruction.

Meanwhile, his intended victim was passing his time in considerable enjoyment, and with a sense of perfect security, among the Crees. This tribe was at that time remarkable for hospitality, and likewise for courage and integrity. These good qualities have sadly degenerated since their intercourse with Europeans has enabled them to gratify the passion of all savages for intoxicating liquors: but at the period of which we are speaking, they were a singularly fine race of Indians, and their renown as warriors enabled them to extend protection to such of the neighboring tribes as entered into alliance with them. Disease had, indeed, recently reduced their numbers in many of the villages that were situated in the dense forest, and were thus deprived of a free circulation of air; and the wigwams at which Tisquantum's party had arrived were among those that had suffered most severely. Several of the lodges had been altogether deserted, in consequence of the death of the proprietors; in which case the Indians frequently strip off the thick mats which form the outer covering of the wigwam, and leave the bare poles a perishing monument of desolation! This is only done when the head of the family dies. The property of which he has not otherwise disposed during his life, is then buried with him; and his friends continue, for a long period, to revisit the grave, and make offerings of food, arms, and cooking utensils. These articles are deemed sacred to the spirit of the departed, and no Indian would think of taking them away unless he replaced them with something of equal value. This is permitted; and the custom must often afford relief to the hungry traveler through the forests, who comes unexpectedly upon the burial grounds of some of his race, and finds the graves amply supplied with maize and tobacco—more useful to the living than to the dead.

Many such graves, besides that of Uncas, were to be seen in the vicinity of the Cree village: and it seemed likely that their numbers would be still augmented; for the disease which had already proved so fatal, had not left the wigwams, although its violence had considerably abated. Old Terah, the uncle of Jyanough, and the chief of the present Sachem's council, lay dangerously ill; and all the charms, and all the barbarous remedies usually resorted to in such cases, had been employed by the Cree Powows in vain. Terah was one of the Pinces, or Pnieses—a dignity conferred only on men of approved courage and wisdom—and many a successful incursion had he led into the great plains of Saskatchawan, where dwelt the Stone Indians, with whom the Crees had long been at enmity—and many a prisoner had he brought back to his village, and slain as an offering to Maatche-Mahneto, while he hung the scalp that he had torn from the quivering victim on the walls of his lodge, as its proudest ornament.

Terah was also as wise in counsel as he was valiant in war; and, although his age prevented his assuming the office of Sachem, or ruler of the village,[*] on the death of his brother, yet his wisdom and experience gave him great influence with Chingook, the present Chief, and caused his life to be regarded as of peculiar value by the whole community.

[Footnote: Almost every considerable village has its Sachem, or Chief, who is subordinate to the great Sachem or Sagamore, of the whole tribe.]

The arrival of so celebrated a Powow as Tisquantum during a time of sickness-and especially when the death of so important a personage as Terah was apprehended—was hailed with great joy by the whole village; and presents of food, clothing, and arms poured into the lodge that formed his temporary abode, from such of the Crees as desired to secure his medical and supernatural aid for the relief of their suffering relatives. All day he was occupied in visiting the wigwams of the sick, and employing charms or incantations to drive away the evil spirits from his patients; sometimes also administering violent emetics, and other drugs from his obee-bag, or medicine-pouch; which contained a multitude of heterogeneous articles, such as herbs, bones, shells, serpents' teeth, and pebbles—all necessary to the arts and practices of a Powow. On the venerable Terah his skill and patience were principally exercised, and many were the torments that he inflicted on the dying old savage, and which were borne by the Pince with all the calm endurance that became his dignity and reputation. Terah, like all others of his exalted rank, had attained to the honor of being a Pince by serving a hard apprenticeship to suffering and privation in his early youth. He had passed through the ordeal triumphantly—and he who had run barefoot through sharp and tearing thorns—who had endured to have his shins beaten with a hard and heavy mallet, and his flesh burned with red hot spears—and had not even betrayed a sense of pain— in order to attain the rank of a great counselor, and the privilege of attending the Sachem as one of his guard of honor—did not shrink when his barbarous physician burned a blister on his chest with red-hot ashes, and scarified the horny soles of his feet till the blood flowed plentifully. Those, and strong emetic herbs, which he forced his patient to repeat until he fainted away, constituted the medical treatment of Tisquantum: but much greater benefit was expected—and, such is the power of imagination in these ignorant savages, that it was often attained—from the practice of his charms and conjurations.

As soon as Tisquantum saw his noble patient reduced to a state of unconsciousness by his physical treatment, he commenced a course of spiritual incantations. In a fierce and unnatural voice, he called on Hobbamock, or Satan, who he declared was visible to him in one of his many forms of an eagle, a deer, a fawn, and sometimes a gigantic human being. He then adjured the evil spirit, and commanded him to remove the disease; promising, in return, to offer to him skins, and hatchets, and even the scalps of his foes. If any signs of returning consciousness appeared, the Powow speedily banished them by a repetition of his wild howling, which he continued for hours, at the same time throwing himself about with wild and unnatural gestures, and striking his hands violently on his legs, until he became as much exhausted as his unlucky patient.

It was during one of these awful exhibitions of heathen cruelty and superstition, that Henrich one evening drew nigh to the lodge of Terah, accompanied by Oriana; and paused at the open entrance, in amazement and horror at the scene he beheld. The dying man lay stretched on the ground, in the center of the outer room of the hut, where he had been placed that he might enjoy the full benefit of the great Powow's skill. His eyes were closed and his gray hairs hung matted end disordered on the ground, while his emaciated features appeared to be fixed in death. A frightful wound was on his breast, and blood was trickling from his lacerated feet; while the involuntary contractions of his limbs alone denoted that he was yet alive, and sensible to suffering, which he was now unable to make any effort to conceal. Around the walls of the hut stood many of his relatives and dependants, whose countenances expressed anxiety and hope, mingled with fear of the priestly Sachem.

Among the bystanders, Henrich instantly recognized his friend Jyanough; and he shuddered to see the ingenious and inquiring youth assisting at such satanic rites. But the figure that chiefly attracted his attention, and to which his eyes became riveted, was that of Tisquantum—the father of his gentle and beloved Oriana! There stood the Sachem: he whose countenance he had seldom seen disturbed from his usual expression of gravity and composure, and whose dignity of manner had hitherto always commanded his respect. There he now stood—a victim to satanic influence! His tall figure was dilated to its utmost height by excitement and violent muscular effort, as he stood by the side of the sick man. His eyes were fixed with a fearful and unmeaning glare on the darkest corner of the hut, and seemed to be starting from their sockets; while his hands, stiff and motionless, were extended over the body of Terah, as if to guard him from the assault of some demons visible to the conjuror alone. In this statue-like posture he remained for some moments, while his breast heaved convulsively, and foam gathered on his parted lips. Then, suddenly, he uttered a yell—so loud and so unearthly that Henrich started with surprise and terror: and Oriana caught his hand, and tried to draw him away from a scene that now filled her soul with shame and sorrow.

But Henrich did not move: he did not heed the beseeching voice, and the gentle violence of his companion, whose wishes were generally commands to her white brother.

That yell had recalled the patient to partial consciousness, and he rolled his blood-shot eyes around him, as if endeavoring to collect his wandering senses; and then his haggard countenance again resumed the expression of imperturbable composure and firm endurance that an Indian warrior thinks it a disgrace to lose, even in the extremity of suffering. Then Tisquantum sank on one knee beside him, and burst forth into a passionate address to his deities—the powers of good and evil— whom he regarded as almost equally mighty to decide the fate of the patient.

'O, Mahneto!' he exclaimed, in a hoarse and howling voice; 'O, Richtan-Mahneto,[1] who created the first man and woman out of a stone, and placed them in these forests to be the parents of thy red children; is it thy will that Terah shall leave his brethren to mourn his departed goodness and wisdom, and go on that long and toilsome journey that leads to the hunting-grounds of our forefathers? Surely when his spirit knocks at the door, it will be opened to him, and the warriors of our tribe will welcome him, while his foes will be driven away with the awful sentence, Quachet![2] Yes, Terah, the wise in counsel, and the fearless in war, shall surely dwell in the fields of happiness, and again strike the prey with the renewed strength and skill of his youth. But not yet, Mahneto! O, not yet!...I see Hobbamock lurking there in the gloom! I see his fiery eagle eyes, and I hear the flap of his heavy wing; and I know that he hovers here to suck the blood of Terah, with all his murderous Weettakos around him![3] But Tisquantum's charms are too strong for him: he cannot approach the sick man now. Ha! Maatche- Mahneto!' he cried—and again he fixed his glaring eyes on the dark space in the far corner of the hut, from which the spectators had shrunk trembling away—' Ha! spirit of evil! I behold thee—and I defy thee! Terah is not thine; and my power has compelled thee to send the Ashkook,[4] with his healing tongue, to lick my brother's wounds; and Wobsacuck, with eagle beak, to devour the venom that clogs his veins, and makes his breath come short and thick. I feel them on my shoulders, as they sit there, and stretch out their necks to do my bidding! Terah shall live!'

[Footnote 1: 'Richtan,' supposed to signify old—'Ancient of Days'— the Maker]

[Footnote 2: Quachet, begone, or march off; supposed to be the sentence of condemnation uttered against the souls of the wicked, when they present themselves, and 'knock at the door' that leads to the Indian Paradise.]

[Footnote 3: Weettako, a kind of vampire or devil, into which the Crees and other tribes suppose all who have ever fed on human flesh to be transformed after death.]

[Footnote 4: Ashkooke, a demon in the form of a snake, who, with his brother-fiend, Wobsacuck, are supposed to be sent by Hobbamock to heal the sick, when forced, by the potent spells of the great Powow, to work good instead of evil.]

Tisquantum closed his wild oration with another loud and prolonged yell, to which all the spectators, who crowded the sides of the hut, replied by a short and yelping cry: and the Powow sank on the ground by the side of his patient, faint and exhausted by the violent and sustained exertions to which both his mind and body had been subjected for several hours without intermission. The attendants, among whom Jyanough was foremost, hastened to his assistance, and administered to him some needful refreshment; and Henrich turned away, grieved and disgusted, and fall of sympathy for his once heathen companion, who, he now remembered, was standing by his side, and witnessing the wild and degrading extravagances of a father whom she both loved and respected.

He looked into her deep expressive eyes, and saw that they were filled with tears of humiliation and mental agony. How could it be otherwise? How could she—who had learned to love a God of mercy, and to believe in a meek and lowly Savior—bear to see her father thus the slave of Satan, and the minister of cruel and heathen superstition? Especially, how could she bear that so degrading a scene should he witnessed by him from whom she had derived all she knew of the gospel of joy and peace, and whose esteem was more precious to her than the opinion of all the world beside?

Silently she walked by Henrich's side for neither of them were inclined to speak the thoughts that filled their minds. And silently they would have proceeded to Oriana's dwelling, where her white brother proposed to leave her with her attendants, and then to return and seek his deluded friend Jyanough; but ere they reached Tisquantum's lodge, they were overtaken by the Indian youth.

Jyanough had been too much engrossed by the exciting scene that took place in Terah's dwelling—and too eagerly watching for some favorable appearances that might encourage him to hope for the life of his only surviving relative—to observe that Henrich was also a spectator of these heathen rites, until all was concluded, and the patient and his physician were alike overpowered by heat and exhaustion. Then he had glanced towards the door, and had seen the saddened expression that clouded the open features of the Christian youth, and the look of anguish that Oriana cast on her degraded father; and then all the truths that Henrich had endeavored so simply and so patiently to impress upon his mind—all the arguments that his white friend had employed to win him from heathen darkness, and guide him into Divine truth—rushed at once upon his memory. He felt ashamed of the remaining superstition that had led him to take part in such vain ceremonies, and to deem that they could conduce to his uncle's recovery, after he had heard, and even assented to, the holy belief of the Christians in the universal power of Almighty God, and the victory of His Son Jesus Christ over the devil and all his angels. And he was grieved, also, that his kind and anxious young teacher should regard him as an ungrateful, and, possibly, even as a deceitful hearer.

He, therefore, hastened after Henrich and Oriana, and overtook them as they approached the lodge appropriated to the Nausett Sachem.

'Are you angry with your red brother?' he inquired earnestly, as he laid his hand on Henrich's shoulder, and looked sadly in his face. 'Do you think that Jyanough is a deceiver, and that he has listened to the teaching of the white stranger only to gain his friendship, and then to forsake him, and betray him, and return to the religion of his own people? O, no! Jyanough's heart is open and clear before the eyes of his friend; and he will gladly listen again to all the good things that Henrich tells him, for his heart says that they are true. But his soul is still very dark; and when he saw Terah ready to die, and felt that, when he was gone, there would be none to love him among all his tribe, the cloud grew thicker and thicker; and Maatche-Mahneto seemed to look out of the midst of the deep gloom with wrathful eyes of fire, and beckon him to follow to Terah's lodge, and join in the worship which the great Powow was about to offer. Will your Mahneto forgive him, Henrich?

The heart of the Christian boy was penetrated with joy and thankfulness at this frank confession of the young Indian. He clearly saw that the struggle—the universal and enduring struggle—between the powers of good and evil, had already commenced in the soul of the red man; and he had full confidence in the blessed declaration, that 'He who hath begun a good work of grace in the immortal spirit, will surely perfect it unto the end.' Therefore, he replied without hesitation, 'He will certainly forgive you, Jyanough; and if you desire His help to make your soul light, and strong, and joyful, and ask for that help in sincerity and truth, He will most assuredly give it to you. Let us enter the lodge, and there unite our prayers to the Great Spirit, who is the God and Father of all his creatures, that He will graciously shed His light and His truth into all our hearts; and, especially, that He will remove all the doubts and fears that still lie sadly and heavily on our brother's spirit.'

The three young friends did so: and in the deserted chamber of the great heathen Powow, Tisquantum, the voice of Christian supplication ascended to the throne of a prayer-answering God. Could it ascend unheeded? or fail to bring down, in His own good time, an answer of peace?



CHAPTER IX

'The dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty.' PSA. lxxiv, 20

The night that followed this conversation, Jyanough passed in Terah's lodge, and he nursed his suffering relative with gentle patience. But he saw no signs of recovery, although the women and the Cree Powows assured him that the fatal disease was driven away by Tisquantum's powerful incantations, and that, when the sun rose, he would see the spirit of Terah revive. So had the conjuror declared; and so these misguided heathens believed. But when the first beams of opening day entered the door of the lodge, which was set open to receive them, and fell on the dark and pallid features of the aged sufferer, Jyanough could no longer be deceived into hope. He saw that his revered uncle was dying, and he hastened to inform Henrich of the fact, and to entreat him to return with him to Terah's wigwam, and to prey to the Great Spirit in his behalf.

Henrich readily complied: and he, too, was convinced, by the first glance at the dying Indian, that no human aid, however skilful, could long retain that once powerful spirit in its worn and wasted tenement of clay. He knelt down by the side of Terah's couch, and Jyanough knelt with him; and, regardless of the wondering gaze of the ignorant attendants, he offered up a short and simple prayer to God for the soul of the departing warrior.

The Cree Powows who had watched the sick man during the night, had left the lodge as soon as daylight set in, to collect materials for a great burnt offering they deigned to make, as a last resource, in front of the Pince's dwelling. As Henrich and Jyanough rose from their knees, the heathen priest entered, bearing strings of wampum, articles of furniture, of clothing, food, tobacco, and everything of any value that they had been able to obtain from the friends of Terah. All these various articles were displayed before the dim eyes of the invalid, for whose benefit they were to be reduced to a heap of useless ashes; and a faint smile of satisfaction passed over Terah's countenance: but he spoke not. Jyanough then bent down, and pressed his lips to the cold brow of his almost unconscious uncle, and hurried with Henrich from the lodge; for he could not bear again to witness any repetition of the heathen ceremonies that had caused him so much shame the preceding day: neither could he endure to see his last relative leave the world, surrounded by a spiritual darkness which it was not in his power to dispel.

The young friends took their way into the forest, that they might be beyond the sight and the sound of those rites that were about to be performed for the recovery of one who had already begun to travel through 'the valley of the shadow of death.' They had not, however, gone far in a westerly direction, before they chanced their intention, and resolved to return to the village. The cause of this change of purpose was their meeting with a band of Cree warriors, who had gone out, some weeks previously, on an expedition against a settlement of their enemies, the Stone Indians; and were now returning from the plains of the Saskatchawan, laden with spoils. Many of the Crees bore scalps suspended from their belts, as bloody trophies of victory; and all had arms, and skins, and ornaments that they had carried away from the pillaged wigwams of their foes.

Henrich could not help gazing with admiration at the party of warriors as they approached. The greater part of them were mounted on beautiful and spirited horses of the wild breed of the western prairies, which they rode with an ease and grace that astonished the young Englishman. They wore no covering on their heads, and their black hair was cut short, except one long scalp-lock hanging behind; so that their fine countenances, which were rather of the Roman cast, were fully exposed to view. Their dress consisted of a large blanket, wrapped gracefully round the waist, and confined by a belt, so as to leave the bust and arms bare; and so perfect and muscular were their figures, that they had the appearance of noble bronze statues. Their native weapons, consisting of spears and bows, with highly ornamented quivers suspended from their shoulders, and battle-axes hung to their belts, added much to their martial and picturesque effect. Behind the horsemen followed a band on foot, who carried the stolen treasures of the wasted village; and Henrich looked with curiosity at the various and beautifully decorated articles of dress, and hunting equipments, that had formed the pride and the wealth of the defeated Stone Indians.

But the part of the spoil that interested and distressed both Henrich and his companion more than all the rest, was a young Indian warrior, who, with his wife and her infant, had been brought away as prisoners to add to the triumph, and, probably, to glut the vengeance, of their conquerors. There was an unextinguished fire in the eye of the captive, and an expression of fearless indignation in the proud bearing with which he strode by the side of his captors, that clearly told how bravely he would sell his life but for the cords that tightly bound his wrists behind him, and were held by a powerful Cree on each side. Behind him walked his wife, with downcast features and faltering steps, and at her back hung her little infant, suspended in a bag or pouch of deer skin, half filled with the soft bog-moss, so much used by Indian squaws to form the bed—and, indeed, the only covering—of their children during the first year of their existence. The eyes of the captive young mother were fixed tearfully on the majestic form of her husband, who was too proud—perhaps, also, too sad—to turn and meet her gaze, while the eyes of his foes were upon him to detect his slightest weakness. Even the low wailing cry of her child was unheeded by this broken hearted wife in that sad hour; for she well knew the customs of Indian warfare, and she had no hope for the life of her warrior, even if her own should be spared.

Henrich gazed on the little group in pity; for be instinctively read their story, and their coming fate, in their countenances, and in the cruel glances that fell on them from their guards. He looked at Jyanough; and in his expressive features he saw a fell confirmation of his worst fears.

'They will sacrifice them to Maatche-Mahneto in the vain hope of lengthening Terah's life,' he softly whispered in Henrich's ear. 'Let us go back and seek Oriana. Perhaps, for her sake, Tisquantum may ask the lives of the squaw and her young child; and, as Chingook's honored guest, they would be granted to him; but there is no hope for the warrior. His blood will surely be shed to appease Maatche-Mahneto, and to atone for the death of several of the Cree braves who have fallen this year by the hands of the Stone tribe.'

Hastily Henrich turned; and, followed by Jyanough, took a by-path well known to them, and entered the village before the arrival of the warriors and their unhappy prisoners. A brief explanation was sufficient to enlist all the kindly feelings, and all the Christian spirit, of Oriana in favor of their project; and she lost no time in seeking her father, who had again repaired to Terah's hut, to superintend the costly sacrifice that was being offered in his behalf. She found him exulting in a partial improvement in his patient, whose senses had again returned with a brief and deceitful brilliance, and attributing what he called the aged Pince's recovery to the potency of his own spells.

This was no time for Oriana to argue with the elated Powow on the fallacy of his pretensions. She therefore listened patiently to his boastings; and then, with much feeling and natural eloquence, told him the cause of her interrupting him at such a moment, and besought him to exert all his great influence with the Crees, to induce them to spare the lives of the Stone captives.

Tisquantum listened with attention to her story and her petition, for he was always gentle to Oriana; but he gave her little hope of that fell success which her warm young heart desired, and anticipated.

'My child,' he said, 'I will do what you ask, so far as to request that the woman and child may be placed at your disposal. But the warrior's life I cannot demand, for it would be an insult to the brave Crees to suppose that they would suffer an enemy to escape, and tell his tribe that they were woman-hearted. No, he must die; and, if the soul of his ancestors dwells in him, he will exult in the opportunity of showing how even a Stone Indian can meet death.'

Oriana was repulsed, but not defeated, by this reply. 'Nay, my father,' she again began, 'either save all, or let all perish. Do not take the brave young warrior from his wife and child, and leave them in poverty and sorrow; but plead for mercy to be shown to him also—and so may mercy be shown to his conquerors, and to you, his deliverer, when—'

'Peace, child,' interrupted the Sachem, with more asperity than he usually showed to Oriana. 'These are the notions you have learned from your white brother, and I desire not to hear them. Tisquantum knows his duty. I will demand the lives of the woman and child of whom you speak; but the warrior must abide his fate. And think you that he would not scorn to live when honor is gone I Go'—he added more gently, as he saw the sorrow that dimmed her eye—'go, and tell Jyanough to meet me at the Sachem's lodge. Terah may yet be saved—this victim comes at s happy moment, and surely Mahneto demands his life as at offering for that of the venerable Pince.'

Oriana shuddered at what she saw to be her father's meaning. Once she would have felt as he did and have believed that their god could be propitiated by blood and agony. But now she knew that all such cruel sacrifices were worse than vain; and deeply she regretted her own inability to bring her countrymen, and especially her own beloved father, to a knowledge of the Gospel of mercy and peace; and thus save them from imbruing their hands in the blood of their fellow men, and thinking that they did good service to the Great Spirit.

She hurried back to her companions, and, weeping, told them of her partial success. It was all, and more than all, that Jyanough expected; and he immediately went to meet Tisquantum at the lodge of the Cree Sachem, Chingook, where he found the war party and their prisoners assembled. After a few words to Jyanough, Tisquantum commenced a long speech to his brother Sachem, in which he dilated on the friendship that subsisted between them, and the joy that he had felt in exercising his skill for the benefit of the brave and hospitable Crees. He then spoke of Terah's perilous condition, and his fears that even his powers had been baffled by the spirit of evil; and that the Pince would yet be taken from them, unless some offering could be found more precious than all that were now piled before his dwelling, and only waited for the auspicious moment to be wrapped inflame, us a sacrifice to the offended deity who had brought the pestilence. 'And have we not such an offering here?' he added, pointing to the captive warrior, who stood, with head erect, awaiting the sentence that he knew would be pronounced. 'Have we not here a victim, sent by Mahneto himself, at the very moment when Terah's life seems hanging on a breath? Lead him, then, to the sacred pile; and as his soul goes forth, the soul of Terah shall revive.

This speech was received with acclamations by the Crees; and already the warriors were hurrying away their captive, while his wife followed, as if mechanically, to share her husband's fate. Bat here Tisquantum interposed, and, in his daughter's name, requested the life of the woman and her child. His request was readily granted by Chingook; for of what value was a squaw in the eyes of these Indian braves?

The daughter of our friend and benefactor shall be denied nothing that she asks,' replied the Cree Chief. 'Take the woman to Oriana's lodge, and let her be her slave.'

Jyanough approached to lead away the unhappy woman but she turned on him a look of despairing misery, and, laying her band on her husband's arm, said quickly, 'I will see my Lincoya die, and then I will follow you where you will, for Mailah has no home.'

Jyanough did not oppose her, for his heart was touched by her sorrow and her fortitude; and the captive warrior turned his head, and bent on her sad countenance one look of tenderness and approbation, that told how deeply he was sensible of her devotion.

He did not speak—perchance he could not trust his voice in that trying moment—but he followed his guards, and his eye was again steadfast, and his step was firm.

Henrich and Oriana waited anxiously for the return of Jyanough: but he came not; and they almost feared that Tisquantum's request had been too coldly urged to prove successful. It was a calm autumnal day; and as the sun rose high in the heavens, his beams were shrouded by heavy thunder clouds, while a low and distant murmur foretold an approaching storm, and added to the gloom that weighed heavily on Oriana's spirit. All the sin and degradation of the faith of her countrymen seemed to strike upon her mind with a force hitherto unknown, and to bow her down in shame and sadness. Even to Henrich—to her loved Christian friend and teacher—she could not now utter her feelings; and when, to divert her thoughts, and remove her from the village where he knew so cruel a scene would soon be enacted, he led her towards the forest, she followed him silently. They seated themselves beneath an overshadowing tree; and, for some time, no sound broke the oppressive silence save the soft rustling of the leaves, that seemed to be moved by the spirits of the air-for no wind was stirring.

Presently a shriek—one single cry of agony—arose from the village: and all was still again.

'It was a woman's voice!' exclaimed Oriana, in a tone of deep suffering. 'O, Henrich! they murder the helpless and the innocent; and my father consents to the deed!'

Henrich did not reply; he had no comfort to offer. But they both gazed towards the village, as if hoping to discover, through the impervious wood that surrounded it, some indications of what was going on in those 'habitations of cruelty.'

Soon a dense cloud of smoke rose high in the still at; and flames shot up above the intervening trees. And then burst forth a mingled din of wild unearthly sounds, that told of sated vengeance, and malignant joy, and demoniac worship. Fiercely the war cry of the Crees rang in the air, while above it rose the shrill sound of clashing spears and tomahawks; and Oriana knew that the savages were dancing round a death- fire, and calling on Mahneto to accept their bloody offering.

But now the threatening storm broke suddenly on that dark place of the earth; and it seemed to Oriana's troubled spirit that the wrath of heaven was poured upon her benighted race. Peal after peal resounded in quick succession, and reverberated from the distant kills; while flashes of forked lightning followed one another rapidly, and dispelled, for a moment, the unnatural darkness. The young Indian clung trembling and terrified to her companion, and hid her face on his shoulder, to shut out the fearful scene, while Henrich spoke to her words of comfort and encouragement, and at length succeeded in calming her agitation. The rain poured down in torrents but so dense was the foliage that hung over Oriana and her companion that it could not penetrate their place of refuge; and they remained awaiting its cessation, and watching the curling smoke, that seemed to die away as the falling torrent extinguished the fire. But as it disappeared, another cloud arose near the same spot; and wider and fiercer flames sprang up, that defied the rain, and continued to burn with more and more strength. Whence could they arise? Surely the wigwams were on fire!

Henrich communicated this fear to Oriana, and they arose and hurried together towards the village, where an appalling scene met their eyes. In front of Terah's dwelling were the smoldering remains of the sacrificial fire, on which—still upheld by the stake to which he had been bound—the burnt and, blackened form of a man was visible; while close by the ashes lay a woman, so motionless that she seemed as totally deprived of life as the wretched victim himself, and a child was reclining on her shoulder, whose faint wailing cry showed that it yet lived and suffered.

None heeded the melancholy group; for the warriors, whose wild songs and frantic dances had been interrupted by the sudden violence of the storm, were all now engaged in fruitless efforts to extinguish the flames that were rapidly consuming the lodge of Terah. The lightning had struck it, and ignited its roof of reeds; and so rapidly had the whole dwelling become a prey to the dreadful element, that even the removal of the dying sage had been despaired of. But Jyanough, who had been a silent spectator of all the previous scene of cruelty, was not to be daunted by the smoke and flame that burst through the entrance, and drove from the chamber of death all the attendants of the sufferer. Boldly he rushed into Terah's dwelling; and, just as Henrich and Oriana entered the open space in front of it, they beheld him issuing forth, blackened with smoke and scorched with fire, and bending beneath the weight of his uncle's corpse.

Yes; Terah was already a corpse! All the charms and incantations of the Powows bad failed to banish the disease that was sent to summon him away. All the treasure that had been destroyed, and the precious life- blood that had been spilled to propitiate false deities, could not for one moment arrest the fiat of the true 'Master of life,' or detain the spirit which was recalled by 'Him who gave it' That spirit had passed away amidst the noise of the tempest; and when Henrich sprang forward, and assisted his friend to lay the body gently on the earth, they saw that the spark of life had fled!

All further attempts at extinguishing the fire were now abandoned; and the Crees gathered round their departed friend to condole with Jyanough, who was his nearest relative, and to commence that dismal howling by which they express their grief on such occasions. All the property of the dead man was already consumed; but the best mats and skins that Jyanough's wigwam contained were brought to wrap the corpse in; and when the site of his former dwelling could be cleared of ashes and rubbish, a grave was speedily dug in the center of it, and the, body laid by the simple sepulchre, around which the friends of the venerated Pince seated themselves, and howled, and wept, and detailed the virtues and the wisdom of the dead.

Jyanough was expected to act the part of chief mourner in these ceremonies; and the real affection he had entertained for his uncle induced him to comply, and to remain all that day, and all the following night, at the grate. But he refused to cover his face with soot—as is customary on such occasions of domestic sorrow—or to join the Powows in their frantic cries and exorcisms, to drive off the Weettakos from sucking the dead man's blood. The presence of Henrich seemed to annoy and irritate these priests of Satan; and he was glad to retire from a scene so repugnant to his better feelings, and to return to Oriana, by whose care and direction the unhappy Mailah and her infant had been promptly removed from the place of death and desolation, and conveyed to her own apartment in Tisquantum's lodge.

Her kind efforts had restored the poor young widow to consciousness; and she now sat on the floor, with her child on her knee, listening with a calmness that almost seemed apathy, to the words of comfort that were uttered by the gentle Squaw-Sachem.

Mailah was very young. Scarcely sixteen summers had passed over her head; and yet—such is Indian life—she had already been a wife and a mother; and now, alas! she was a widow. Her grief had been passionate at the last, and had burst forth in that one wild cry that had startled Oriana's ear in the forest. But that was over now, and she seemed resigned to her hard fate, and willing to endure it. Perhaps this was for her infant's sake; and, perhaps, her sensibilities were blunted by the life she had led, in common with the rest of her race and sex—a life in which the best feelings and sympathies of our nature are almost unknown. It was not until Oriana led her to speak of her past life, and the home of her youth—now desolate and in ruins—that tears of natural grief flowed from her eyes. Then she seemed roused to a full sense of all she had lost, end broke out into mournful lamentations for her murdered Lincoya, whose noble qualities and high lineage she eloquently extolled; while she sadly contrasted her present lonely and desolate position with her happiness as the squaw of so distinguished a warrior, and so successful a hunter.

Oriana said all she could to console her; and assured her of her protection and friendship, and of a home in her lodge when they returned to their own country, where she should live as her sister, and bring up her little Lincoya to emulate his father's courage and virtues: and, ere long, the simple young savage again grew calm, said lifted up her soft black eyes, and smiled gratefully at her new friend and benefactor. She said she bad no wish to return to her own tribe, for all her family and friends had been destroyed in the recent massacre; and the village where she had spent such happy days was reduced to ashes. She, therefore, was well content to remain with the youthful Squaw-Sachem, to whose intercession she knew she owed her own life and that of her child, and in whose service she professed her willingness to live and die.

Her manner and appearance greatly interested Henrich, for they were marked by much greater refinement than he had seen in any of the Indian females, except Oriana. This was to be accounted for by her noble birth; for in those days the Indian chieftains prided themselves on the purity and nobility of their lineage; and no member of a Sachem's family was allowed to marry one of an inferior race. A certain air of dignity generally distinguished the privileged class, even among the females; although their lives were not exempt from much of hardship and servitude, and they were regarded as altogether the inferiors of their lords and masters.

To Oriana the arrival of the young mother and her playful child was a source of much pleasure and comfort; for she had begun to feel the want of female society, and the women who accompanied Tisquantum's party, and assisted her in the domestic duties of the family, were no companions to her. In Mailah she saw that she could find a friend; and her kindness and sympathy soon attached the lonely young squaw to her, and even restored her to cheerfulness and activity. It was only when she visited the grave in which Henrich and Jyanough had laid the murdered Lincoya, and decked it with flowers and green boughs, that the widow seemed to feel the greatness of her affliction. Then she would weep bitterly, and, with passionate gestures, lament her brave warrior. But, at other times, she was fully occupied with the care of her little Lincoya, or in assisting Oriana in the light household duties that devolved upon her. And her sweet voice was often heard singing to the child, which generally hung at her back, nestled in its soft bed of moss.



CHAPTER X.

'The noble courser broke away. And bounded o'er the plain? The desert echoed to his tread, As high he toss'd his graceful head, And shook his flowing name.

King of the Western deserts! Thou Art still untam'd and free! Ne'er shall that crest he forced to bow Beneath the yoke of drudgery low: But still in freedom shalt thou roam The boundless fields that form thy home Thy native Prairie!' ANON.

The camp of the Indian hunters looked cheerful and picturesque, as Oriana and Mailah approached it one evening on their return from a ramble in the forest, where they had been to seek the wild fruits that now abounded there, and paused at the skirt of the wood, to admire the scene before them. The proposed hunting-ground had been reached the preceding day, and already the temporary huts were completed, and the tents of the Sachem pitched beneath a grove of lofty oaks and walnuts, free from underwood, and on the border of a clear and rippling stream. The Nausett and Pequodee hunters had purchased a considerable number of horses from their Cree friends; and, therefore, the journey from Chingook's village to the prairie, in which the encampment now stood, had been performed with much ease and expedition; and the hardy animals were so little fatigued by their march through the forest, that several of the younger Indians had mounted again the morning after their arrival, and gone off on a reconnoitering expedition, to discover what prospect there was of finding much game in that neighborhood.

Henrich—proud and happy in the possession of a spirited horse, with which Tisquantum had presented him—insisted on being one of the party; end he was accompanied, also, by Jyanough, who had left his native village, now rendered sad and gloomy in his eyes, to follow his white friend, and share his society at least for a time. This arrangement gave Henrich the greatest satisfaction for the young Cree was the only Indian of his own sex in whom he had been able to find a companion, or who had peculiarly attached himself to the stranger: and the more he saw of Jyanough the more he found in him to win his esteem and friendship.

Oriana and Mailah seated themselves on the luxuriant grass to rest; and the young Indian mother removed her child from the strange cradle in which she always carried it, and laid it on her knees; and then, after gazing at it for a few moments, she began to sing a wild, sweet song, to hush it to sleep. In a soft, monotonous cadence, she sang the sad story of its little life—its birth—its captivity—and the death of its murdered father, whom she exhorted it to imitate, and live to equal in courage and in skill. And thus she sang:

'Child of the slain Lincoya, sleep In peace! Thy mother wakes to guard thee. But where is he whose smile once fell on thee as sunshine—thy father, Lincoya? He is gone to the far distant hunting-grounds and there, again, he casts the spear; and there he draws the unerring bow; and there he quaffs the cup of immortality, with the spirits of the good and brave. O Lincoya! thy voice was to me as a sweet song, or as the summer breeze among the tall cypress trees—why didst thou leave me? Thy step was swift and graceful as the roe upon the mountains—why didst thou leave me? But I will follow thee, my warrior, The death-bird has called me, and I come to thee! Thy child shall live; for Mahneto has given him friends and a home. He shall grow up like thee, and Oriana shill be o mother to him when I am gone: and the blue-eyed stranger, whom she loves as I loved thee, shall guide his hand in war, and in the chase. Lincoya! I come to thee!'

Oriana listened to the mournful chant of the young widow with much interest and sympathy; but when she spoke of her love for her white brother, in terms so new and strange, she almost felt offended. She did not, however, remark on her friend's allusion to herself, but turned the discourse to Mailah's sad prophecy of her own early death, which she knew could only be grounded on one of the wild superstitions of her race.

'Why do you talk of dying, Mailah?' she asked. 'You are young and strong; and you may again be happy. Why do you say you will leave your child, and go to the land of spirits?'

'The death-bird[*] called to me last night, as I sat at the open door of the hut, and looked at the moon, and thought how its soft light was guiding my Lincoya on long, long, journey, to the everlasting hunting fields of his fathers. Cheepai-Peethees called me twice from the tree that hung over the lodge; but when I called to it again, and whistled clearly, it made no answer. I heard it the day before the Crees destroyed our village. It called my husband then, and would not answer him; and in two days he was slain. The death-bird is never mistaken.'

[Footnote: A small owl called Cheepai-Peethees, or the death-bird, which the Indians attach the superstition here alluded to, and believe, if it does not answer to their whistle, it denotes their speedy death.]

'O, Mailah!' replied the young Christian squaw, 'say not so. Surely it is not thus that the great Mahneto calls His children to come to Him. Once I believed all these Indian stories; but now I know that they are false and vain. I know that our lives, and all things that befall us, are in the hands of the wise and good God—the Mahneto of the Christians and of the red men too. And now I have no fear of any of those strange sounds that used to make me sad, and terrify me with thoughts of coming evil. I most teach you to believe as I do now: or, rather, my white brother shall teach you; for he knows the words of Mahneto himself. See, Mailah! There my brother comes—let us go to meet him.'

A flush of joy mounted to the clear olive cheek of Oriana as she said these words, and she sprang to her feet with the lightness of a fawn. Mailah rose more gently, and replacing her infant in the pouch, slung it over her shoulder, and followed her friend, softly whispering in her ear, 'The white stranger is your Lincoya.'

The Indian beauty smiled, and blushed more deeply: but she did not bound across the glade to meet Henrich as she had purposed doing. She drew her slender figure to its full height, and stood still; and as Henrich galloped across the green meadow, and alighted, full of animation, to tell her of his success in his first essay at hunting the elk, he wondered why she greeted him so coldly.

The fact was that Oriana was beginning to find that the blue-eyed stranger possessed even more interest in her eyes than she had ever felt for her own dark brother, Tekon; and when Mailah had openly alluded to this sentiment—which she thought unknown to all but herself—her natural and instinctive delicacy was wounded. But the feeling quickly wore away; and as Henrich and Jyanough detailed the exciting sports of the day, she forgot all but the pleasure of listening to his voice, and gazing at his fine countenance and bright sweet smile. She was happy; and she though not of the future.

And Henrich was happy, too. He had now found companions whom he could love; and the life of the Indian hunters was all that he had ever pictured to himself of freedom and adventure. The beauty of the scenery—the clearness of the sky—and the glow of health and excitement that animated his whole frame when he joined in the chase with his savage friends, were all so entirely different to the life he had led in damp and foggy Holland, that it was no wonder he enjoyed it, and that his youthful spirits enabled him to subdue the oft-recurring grief that he felt at each remembrance of his family and his home. Hope was strong in his breast; and he trusted once again to meet all whom he loved so dearly: and the present was so bright and inspiring that he could not desire to change it yet.

For many weeks the camp remained pitched in the same lovely situation; and the time of the hunters was fully occupied in the discovery and pursuit of the various wild animals that abounded in the uncultivated, but richly verdant, prairie. Of these, the elk and the buffalo were the most common victims to the spears and arrows of the Indians; and every evening large quantities of meat were brought into the camp, and given to the care of the squaws to dry and cure for winter consumption. These larger animals were too heavy to be transported whole to the huts; end therefore the hunters always skinned them and cut off the flesh where they fell, and left the carcasses to the wolves and the birds of prey that were ever ready at hand. But the smaller animals, and the wild turkeys and other birds, that were killed in great numbers, were brought in and thrown down by the blazing camp fires, that lighted up the glade every night, and were speedily prepared and cooked for the supper of the hungry hunters.

As the leader of the expedition, Tisquantum was always presented with the choicest of the game; and it was Oriana's task to superintend the curing of the elk and buffalo meat, and the cooking that was required for her father's lodge. In all these household cares she was greatly assisted by Mailah, who was both active and skilful in all the duties of an Indian squaw: and eager also to evince her gratitude for the kindness and protection that were afforded to herself and her child by the Nausett Chief, by doing all that she could to lighten Oriana's labors. Time and occupation did not fail to have their usual effect on one so young, and naturally so light-hearted as Mailah; and animated cheerfulness took the place of the mournful expression that had hitherto so frequently sat on her countenance. She did not forget Lincoya; but she forgot the call of the death-bird: and when she sang her child to sleep, it was no longer with the same sad cadence as at first. Sorrow could not strike very deep, or abide very long in the heart of a being so gay, and with a mind and feelings so utterly uncultivated as those of the young Stone Indian. Neither could she live so much in the society of the white stranger, and his two chosen companions, without imbibing something of their intelligence, and becoming sensible of their superiority of mind to all others with whom she had ever associated: and she grew more and more attached to them, and learnt to regret less the friends and companions among whom her youth had been spent.

She was a high-spirited and courageous creature: she would have followed her husband unhesitatingly to death, had she been called on to do so; or she would have died to save him, if her life could have availed to purchase his. But now that he was gone, and she could not even weep over his grave, and deck it with flowers and gifts, her lively spirit rose again, and led her to seek amusement and occupation in everything within her reach.

The accounts which Henrich and Jyanough continually gave to her and Oriana of their exciting adventures in the prairie, had aroused in both of them a strong desire to be spectators of the sport; and they sought and obtained Tisquantum's permission to accompany the hunters one morning to the buffalo ground that lay nearest to the camp, and there to witness the pursuit and capture of some of those magnificent animals.

A short ride through the forest brought the party out upon a vast and glorious prairie, on which the rich autumnal sun was shining in all his strength. On a rising ground that partially overlooked the plain, Oriana and her companion took up their position, beneath the shade of a grove of pines; and they watched the hunters as they examined the foot- prints on the dewy turf, or followed the tracks of the elks and buffaloes through the long prairie-grass, in order to make their arrangements for enclosing the game and driving the animals into an open and central situation.

In the course of this examination, the recent tracks of a number of wild horses were discovered, and fresh excitement was felt by the whole party, for all were desirous to attempt the capture of these most valuable animals; and they resolved, on this occasion, to make them the chief objects of their pursuit. A ring was, therefore, formed by the numerous company of horsemen, enclosing a very large space of the beautiful park-like ground, which was studded with trees, either single or in groups; while underneath them, in the distance, could be seen many buffaloes lying down or grazing. The scene had the appearance of a wide extent of finely-cultivated pasture, ornamented with timber of every kind; end it forcibly recalled to Henrich's memory the fields and the cattle that had surrounded his European home. But the size of the trees, the extent of the natural meadow, and, above all, the wild aspect of the red hunters with their spears, and bows, and tomahawks, soon destroyed the fancied resemblance; while the eagerness and excitement of the novel sport banished all the sad recollections to which it had given rise. A desire also to distinguish himself in the presence of Oriana, and show her that a pale-face could equal her own dark race in courage and dexterity, inspired him with peculiar ardor; and he galloped to the station appointed him by Tisquantum, with a heart that bounded with pride and pleasure.

The hunters were each provided with a long coil of grass rope, with a noose at the end—now called a lariat or lasso—used by the Indians for casting over the horns of the elks and buffaloes, or the necks of the wild horses, that they desired to capture. These they carried in such a manner as to be ready to throw them off in an instant to their whole length, if necessary; but much practice is required to do this with precision, and Henrich did not yet hope for success in the difficult art. His only chance of capturing a wild courser lay in his skill in casting the spear, which might enable him to pierce the animal through the upper part of the neck, and thus produce a temporary insensibility, during which time he might be secured without any permanent injury. This also requires great precision and address; but Henrich had become an adept in the use of the light lance, and he felt sanguine of success if the opportunity should he afforded him.

The string of horsemen slowly and warily drew in towards the open spot that was intended to be the scene of their operations, and of which Oriana and Mailah had a good view from their safe and elevated position; and soon a troop of wild horses were disturbed by one of the hunters, and burst forth from a thick grove of trees that had previously concealed them. They rushed madly over the plain, mingling with the affrighted buffaloes and American deer, that had not hitherto perceived the stealthy approach of their foes. At every point where they attempted to escape from the enclosure they were met by a mounted huntsman, and were driven back, with shouts and cries, towards the center. All other game was now forgotten; and each hunter singled out, for his own object of pursuit, the steed that pleased him best, and of which he thought he could most easily gain possession. But one there was—the leader of the troop—on which many eyes were fixed with eager desire. He was a noble creature, of perfect form and proportions; and as he pranced before his companions, with neck erect, and throwing his head from side to side, as if to reconnoiter his assailants—while his mane and tail floated in the breeze, and his glossy coal-black skin gave back the rays of the morning sun—he looked like the King of the Prairie, going forth in the pride of perfect freedom.

The ring grew smaller and smaller; and every hand was steady, and every eye was fixed for the moment of trial: and soon the headlong pursuit commenced. At the first scattering of the wild troop, several of the younger and more feeble horses were secured; and some of the hunters, who despaired of nobler game, contented themselves with capturing or slaying either elks or buffaloes. But the finest horses escaped the first assault, and broke through the circling ring into the boundless meadow, where they were followed at mad speed by the hunters, poising their spears, and swinging their nooses round their heads, ready for a cast. Henrich and Jyanough, and several others of the best mounted Indians, had joined in the chase of the black leader, and dashed furiously after him over the plain. The horse that the English boy rode was strong and fleet, and the light weight of his rider enabled him to keep with the foremost of the red hunters' steeds, and, at length, to come almost alongside the noble courser. The spear was poised in Henrich's hand, and was just about to fly, when suddenly his horse fell to the ground, and rolled over on the turf, leaving his rider prostrate, but uninjured, except being stunned for a moment by the shock.

When he opened his eyes, and sprang to his feet, he saw the king of the desert galloping up a rising ground, over which he quickly disappeared, still hotly pursued by Coubitant and several of the hunters. Jyanough and the rest of his companions, had dismounted to assist their fallen friend, and to form conjectures as to the probable cause of the unlucky accident. For some time none could be perceived; but on carefully examining his horse, Henrich at length discovered a small wound in the hind leg, and found that the creature was lame. How, or by whom, the wound had been given, he could not even surmise; for in the eagerness of the chase he had not observed that Coubitant rode close behind him: and that he had passed him at full speed the moment his horse stumbled and fell. But Jyanough had remarked it; and from what he had already seen of the wily Indian, he felt convinced that, prompted by malicious jealousy, he had thus sought to deprive his rival of his hoped-for success, and, perhaps, even to inflict on him some grievous personal injury.

The young Indian had, however, the good sense to conceal his suspicions from Henrich at present, and to allow him to regard the whole affair as accidental; but he determined to keep a strict watch over the conduct of Coubitant for the future, and, if possible, to guard his friend from all his evil machinations.

Soon the Nausett and the rest of the hunters returned from their fruitless chase, and reported the escape of the noble wild coursers and when Jyanough heard the regrets that Coubitant expressed for the accident that had befallen Henrich, and the condolences he offered on his having thus missed the object which otherwise his skill most surely have attained, he could scarcely contain his indignation at such hypocrisy, or refrain from opening the eyes of the unsuspicious young Englishman.

They all returned together, at a slow pace, to the main body of the hunters, for Henrich's horse was too lame to be mounted; and, as soon as the adventure was made known, much sympathy and interest were shown for the disappointment of the pale-face, in which Oriana's countenance and manner showed she partook so warmly, that Coubitant turned aside to conceal his anger and vexation, and heartily wished that his well-aimed blow had not only deprived Henrich of the glory of that day's hunting, but had also put a stop for ever to the success for which he both hated and envied him.

The sport continued, after this interruption, as actively as before, but neither Henrich nor his horse could take any further share in it; and he remained with Oriana and Mailah, enjoying the beauty of the scenery, and gathering flowers and fruit for his companions, and for the little. Lincoya, who, freed from the restraint of his moss-lined bed, now rolled on the turf with Rodolph, and played with the gentle and intelligent animal.

How happy was Oriana that day! She was proud of the gallant bearing of her 'white brother' among the red warriors of her own wild race, and she had exulted at the praises which she had heard bestowed on his address as a hunter, and his shill in horsemanship, by Tisquantum and the elder Indians; and now, though she regretted his accident, and the disappointment which it had caused him, she did not suspect that it had been effected by the malice of a deadly enemy, and she rejoiced that it had given her the pleasure of his society for the rest of the day—a pleasure which she had but seldom enjoyed since their arrival in the prairie.

At the close of the day the game was collected, and, after due preparation, was carried back to the camp, where the squaws had already lighted the evening fires, and made every necessary arrangement for cooking the expected supper. Around these fires the hunters sat in groups, and discussed the events of the day, among which the accident that had befallen the pale-face excited much interest and conjecture. Jyanough listened to the probable and improbable causes that were assigned by all the speakers, especially by Coubitant, to account for so strange a circumstance; but he held his peace, for in his inmost soul he was only more and more convinced that the subtle and dark- brewed savage was the perpetrator of the malicious deed.

In this suspicion, he was the more strongly confirmed by an event that occurred a few days afterwards. It had been discovered that the stream that ran so gently by the side of the encampment fell, at some distance to the west, into a river of considerable size and depth, which then ran on over a descending and rocky bed, forming alternately smooth broad sheets of water and noisy broken falls, until it precipitated itself over a sudden precipice of great depth, and fell dashing and foaming into the basin which its continual fall had worn in the rocks below. The distant roar of this cataract had frequently been heard in the camp, when the wind came from that direction, and when the stillness of the night—broken only by the occasional howl of wild beasts seeking their prey, or the melancholy cry of the goat-sucker[*]— succeeded to the sounds of labor or idleness that generally kept the temporary village alive by day. But, hitherto, no one had had leisure or inclination to leave the excitement and novelty of hunting to explore the river, or ascertain its capabilities for fishing.

[Footnote: This mournful sound is believed by the Indians to be the moaning of the departed spirits of women who have committed infanticide; and who are, consequently, excluded by Mahneto from the happy mountains which are the abode of the blessed.]

Now, however, Coubitant brought in a report one evening that the great stream abounded in fish; and proposed in to Henrich that, as he was for the present unable to join in the more active business of the chase, he should assist him in forming a light canoe, in which they could go out and spear the game that lay beneath the clear blue water in the smooth reaches of the river.

To this proposal Henrich readily assented; for the sport was one of which he had beard his Indian friends speak with great pleasure, and he greatly wished to enjoy it. The canoe was immediately commenced; and as it merely consisted of the trunk of a straight tulip-tree, hollowed out by means of fire, and shaped with a hatchet, it was completed in a couple of days.

The light spears that were to pierce the fish were prepared, and long slender lines of twisted grass were fastened to their shafts for the purpose of drawing in their prey; and the following morning, when the hunters were ready to set out on their usual expedition, Coubitant desired Henrich to accompany him to the river side, where their little bark lay ready to receive them. Why, on hearing this proposal, did Jyanough still linger when all the rest of the hunters were mounted, and his own steed was pawing the ground, impatient of his master's delay? And why, after gazing a few moments at Coubitant's dark countenance, did he declare his wish to join the fishing party, and requested the Nausett to allow him to take a place in the canoe? Did he see treachery in that eye of fire? Jyanough could lend his horse to the pale-face, if he should happen to wish to hunt.

His request was, however, negatived decidedly by Coubitant; who assured him, with assumed courtesy, that he regretted the size of the boat was too small to admit of its carrying a third sportsman with safety; but invited him to join him in the same sport the following day, when, he added—with that smile that Oriana hated—Jyanough could lend his horse to the pale-face, if he should happen to wish to hunt.

The young Cree was baffled. He would gladly have pre vented his friend from accompanying Coubitant on the expedition; but be had no means of doing so, or even of putting him on his guard against any possible evil designs on the part of his companion. So he sprang upon his eager horse, and galloped after the hunters, hoping that his fears and suspicions were unfounded.

Oriana and Mailah, attended by their faithful companion Rodolph, walked down to the edge of the river, to see the fishermen embark in their frail vessel; and, for some time, they watched the sport with considerable interest, and admired the skill with which Coubitant pierced and brought up several large fish. These he attracted towards the canoe by means of some preparation that he scattered on the surface of the water; and when the fish appeared within reach of his spear, he darted it with unerring aim, and drew in his struggling victim with the line that was attached to it. Henrich was also provided with weapons; but as the sport was entirely new to him, he found it difficult to take a steady aim, and his success was slight.

Coubitant, however, had soon secured a considerable stock of fish, and he rowed to the shore, and requested Oriana and her companion to convey them to the Sachem's lodge; adding, in a careless tone, that it would not be worth their while to return to the river, as he was going to a reach at some distance down the stream, towards the head of the cataract, where he expected to show Henrich excellent sport.

The two young women returned to the camp; and, having committed the fine fish to the care of the inferior squaws, they agreed to go again towards the river, and take this opportunity of visiting the falls, which they much desired to see, and near which they should probably again meet the fishermen. They rambled through the wood, taking a direct course towards the cataract, the sound of whose waters soon became sufficiently audible to guide them in their unknown way. Sometimes they came in sight of the river; and again they saw the little canoe, either standing motionless on the smooth surface of the water where the stream was wide and unbroken, or else passing, under the skilful guidance of Coubitant, between the rocks that occasionally disturbed its course, and formed foaming rapids, down which the little bark darted with fearful velocity.

The last reach of the broad river was as calm and smooth as a lake. It seemed as if the collected mass of water, which had gathered there from many a broken and troubled stream, and had struggled through many windings and many difficulties, was reposing there, and gaining strength for its last great leap over the dark precipice. As Oriana and Mailah approached the verge of the scattered forest, and stood to gaze on the magnificent scene before them, they perceived the canoe descend a narrow rapid, and then take up a position below an elevated mass of rock, where the water was perfectly still, and where the fishermen could quietly pursue their occupation. They evidently did not perceive their female friends, and the roar of the cataract was now so loud as to prevent all possibility of their hearing their voices. For a short time Oriana and her friend watched their movements, and saw several fish captured; and then proceeded along the steep and rocky bank, in order to obtain a still better view of the waterfall.

It was a beautiful scene on which those two young Indians looked; and they felt its power and grandeur, and stood silent and motionless. The cataract was beneath them; and its roar came up like thunder from the dark deep basin into which its weight of waters fell, and threw up a cloud of foam and spray; and then it rushed away again, as if in gladness at its safe descent and free course, until the shining stream was hidden by the rocks and overhanging trees that marked its winding course. The natural platform on which Oriana and Mailah stood, commanded a view not only of the wild cataract and the lower stretch of the river, but also of the bold steep rocks on the opposite side, and the dark forest that stretched away to the distant mountains that bounded the horizon. It likewise enabled them to perceive the small canoe, lying motionless on the water, in the shadow of the projecting rock.

By and by the boat was rowed into the center of the river, and Coubitant appeared to be seeking for a good fishing spot, as he pointed in different directions, and once or twice darted his spear into the water, and drew it out again without any success. Meanwhile, the canoe floated slowly down the stream, but its motion gradually increased as it approached the fall; and Oriana gazed at it, expecting every moment that Coubitant, who had now taken the oar in his powerful grasp, would turn its course, and either draw towards the shore; or else row back again up the river, and land below the first rapids. To her surprise, and somewhat to her anxiety, he still continued, however, to allow the canoe to proceed; and she saw Henrich take a dart in his hand, and stand erect as if to strike at something beneath the surface, to which Coubitant pointed with the paddle. Another instant, and her white brother was in the water, and struggling to catch the side of the canoe! Breathlessly she gazed; and she distinctly saw the paddle which Coubitant held, extended towards the uplifted hand of Henrich. Still he did not grasp it! O! why was this? And then the boat, which bad already floated perilously near to the fall, was Suddenly turned, and she beheld Coubitant making violent efforts to overcome the force of the current, and row to the opposite and nearest shore. He was alone!

And where was Henrich? Where was the brave young stranger? Battling desperately with the rapid stream which was carrying him onward to destruction. He rose and sank, rose again, and the current bore him on with resistless force. For a moment, Oriana clasped her hands over her eyes, to shut out the dreadful sight; and then, as if inspired by a gleam of supernatural hope, she darted forward, calling Rodolph, and pointing to the stream. The intelligent creature had seen the form of Henrich in the water, and only waited his mistress's command to risk his life in the attempt to save him. But his sagacity taught him that it was useless to enter the river above the fall; and he bounded down the steep bank that led to its foot, and stood eager, and panting, on a point of rock that overhung the basin. Oriana was quickly on the same spot, followed by Mailah; but ere they reached it, the dog had plunged into the foaming waters, and now appeared, upholding the inanimate form of Henrich, and struggling fearfully to drag him from the whirlpool.

O, it was a sickening sight! and Oriana's heart stood still in the agony of suspense She could not aid her brother! She could not cope with that mad whirl of water! But she leaped down the steep rocks, and stood on the narrow ledge of shore below, to wait the moment for action. At length—after what appeared almost a hopeless conflict with the dashing waters—Rodolph appeared through the cloud of foam and slowly and feebly swam towards the shore, still supporting the lifeless burden that seemed almost to drag him beneath the surface.

Now was the time for the Indian girl to prove her skill and courage. Lightly she sprang into the water, and in a moment she was at Rodolph's side; and, with one arm sustaining the drooping head of Henrich, while, with the other, she dexterously swam back to the spot where Mailah stood ready to assist her. With much difficulty they lifted the senseless form of Henrich on the shore, and proceeded to adopt every means in their power to restore suspended animation; while Rodolph—the faithful devoted Rodolph—lay down panting and exhausted, but still keeping a watchful eye on him whom he had so daringly rescued. Long the two young Indians labored in silence, and almost in despair; for no color returned to those pallid lips, and no warmth was perceptible in the chilled and stiffened hands, that fell powerless by his side. Still they persevered: and no tear, no lamentation, betrayed the anguish that wrung the heart of Oriana, while she believed that all was in vain. But her soul was lifted up in prayer to the One True God, in whom she had been taught to put her trust by her beloved 'white brother': and in His mercy was her only hope.

Nor was that hope in vain. The warm beams of the mid-day sun fell powerfully on that sheltered spot where the little group were gathered, and, combined with the continued friction that Oriana and Mailah employed, at length brought back the life-blood to Henrich's cheeks and lips, and his anxious nurses had the joy of perceiving that he breathed. A few minutes more, and he opened his deep blue eyes, and looked wildly around him, and spoke some English words that Oriana heard amid the din of the falling waters, and knew were of his home and his kindred. And then he uttered her own name, and attempted to rise, but fell back again into her arms, and smiled sweetly and gratefully when her eyes met his, and he saw that she was watching over him. There was joy—deep joy and gratitude—in those young hearts at that moment; but Henrich's weakness, and the noise of, the roaring cataract, prevented them from communicating their feelings in words, and Oriana forbore to ask any questions of Henrich relative to the cause of his perilous adventure.

After some time he seemed greatly to recover, and, rising from the ground, he slowly mounted the bank, supported by Oriana and her friend. But it was evident that he was quite unable to proceed on foot to the camp, and it was agreed that Mailah should return as quickly as possible and bring such assistance as she could procure from thence, while Henrich and Oriana should advance as far as his enfeebled state would admit of.

Mailah's light form soon disappeared in the wood, and it was not long ere she reached the camp, and hastened to the tent of Tisquantum, who, on that day, had not joined the hunting party. She told her story, in which the old Chief showed the deepest interest; and she observed a dark frown on his brow while she related the unsuccessful attempts of Coubitant to draw Henrich from the water with his paddle; but he made no remark.

The hunters were still absent, and few men remained in the camp. These were all engaged in felling wood and other laborious employments, and Tisquantum prepared to lead his own horse out to meet his adopted son. But, just as he and Mailah were leaving the camp for this purpose, Coubitant came rapidly up from the river's brink, and, hurrying towards them, began to relate, with expressions of grief and consternation, the sad fate which he believed to have befallen the young stranger, and the exertions that he had made to save his life, but which had, unhappily, proved unavailing to avert the calamity. The sorrow of the Nausett Indian seemed excessive; and Tisquantum probably considered it so, for he listened with perfect calmness to his recital, and then merely replied, 'Happily, the youth is safe. Mahneto has succored him, and I go to bring him back to the camp.'