Wild Western Scenes

by J. B. Jones

  CHAPTER XI.

  Mary--Her meditations--Her capture--Her sad condition--Her mentalsufferings--Her escape--Her recapture.

  When the men departed for the island in quest of the wolves, Mary wassinging over her neglected flowers, at her father's house in thevalley, and her clear ringing notes were distinctly heard by the wholeparty. After they were gone she continued her song, and lingered longover every faded leaf and withered blossom, with no thought of dangerwhatever, and none of pain, save the regret that her long cherishedplants had been forgotten in the consternation of the previous day,and had fallen victims to the frost-king. But nothing had been touchedby the savages. The domestic fowls clustered about her, and receivedtheir food from her hands as usual. The fawn was with her, and evincedthe delight afforded by the occasional caress bestowed upon it, byfrequently skipping sportively around her. Mary was happy. Her wantswere few, and she knew not that there was such a thing as a maliciousenemy in the world, save the wild savage. Her thoughts were as pure asthe morning dew, and all her delights were the results of innocence.She had never harmed any one, and her guileless heart never conceivedthe possibility of suffering ill at the hands of others. She smiledwhen the beautiful fawn touched her hand with its velvet tongue, and atear dimmed her eye for an instant when she looked upon her strickenrose.

  While looking at one of the homely shelves in a corner of the desertedhouse, Mary accidentally espied a small volume of poems, the gift ofGlenn, that had been neglected. She seized it eagerly, and afterturning over the pages the fiftieth time, and humming over many of thesongs, she paused suddenly, and lifting her eyes to the brightsun-beams that streamed through the window, long remained in alistless attitude. Something unusual had startled her simplemeditations. At first a shade of painful concern seemed to pass acrossher brow, and then glancing quickly at the book she still held in herhand, a sweet smile animated her lips. But again and again, ever andanon, the abstracted gaze was repeated, and as often succeeded by thesmile when her eyes fell upon the volume. Did her thoughts dwell uponthe giver of that book? Undoubtedly. Did she love Glenn? This she knewnot herself, but she would have died for him! She was ignorant of theterms courtship, love, and marriage. But nature had given her a heartabounding with noble and generous impulses.

  At length she drew her shawl closely round her shoulders, and, closingthe door of the hut, was in the act of returning up the hill, when shewas startled by the furious and sudden barking of the hounds, whichshe had left confined in the inclosure on the cliff. She paused, andlooked steadily in every direction, and was not able to discover, oreven conjecture, what it was that had roused the hounds. Yet anundefinable fear seized upon her. The fawn at her side likewisepartook of the agitation, for the hair stood upright on its back, andit often snuffed the air with great violence, producing, at each time,a shrill, unnatural sound.

  Mary started briskly up the path, determined to shut herself up inGlenn's house until her father returned from the island. When she hadproceeded about twenty paces, and was just passing a dense thicket ofhazel that bordered the narrow path, she heard a slight rustling onthe left, and the next moment she was clasped in the arms of a brawnysavage!

  "Oh me! who are you?" demanded she, struggling to disengage herself,and unable to see the swarthy features of her captor, who stood behindher. No answer being made, she cast her eyes downwards, and beheld thecolour of the arms that encircled her. "Father! Mr. Glenn! Mr. Boone!"she exclaimed, struggling violently. Her efforts were unavailing, and,overcome with exhaustion and affright, she fainted on the Indian'sbreast. The savage then lifted her on his shoulder, ran down to therivulet that flowed through the valley, and fled outwards to theprairie. When he reached the cave-spring, a confederate, who had beenwaiting for him, seized the burden and bore it onwards, in a westerlydirection, with increased rapidity. Thus they continued the retreat,bearing the insensible maiden alternately, until they came to a smallgrove some distance out in the prairie, when they slackened theirpace, and, after creeping a short time under the pendent boughs of thetrees, halted in the camp of the war-party.

  The Indians gathered round the pale captive, some with rage and deadlypassions marked upon their faces, and others with expressions oftriumph and satisfaction. They now made preparations for departing.Mary was wrapped in a large buffalo robe, enveloping her body andface, and placed in the snow-canoe. The party then deposited theirtomahawks and other cumbersome articles at the feet of their captive,and, grasping the leather rope attached to the canoe, set off rapidlyin a southerly direction.

  Ere long, Mary partially awoke from her state of insensibility, whenall was dark and strange to her confused senses. She pulled aside thelong hair of the buffalo skin that obscured her face, and looked outfrom her narrow place of confinement. The blue heavens alone met herview above. The incident of the seizure was indistinct in her memory,and she could not surmise the nature of her present condition. Sheturned hastily on her side, and the occasional bush she espied in thevicinity indicated that she was rushing along by some means with analmost inconceivable rapidity. She could scarce believe it wasreality. How she came thither, and how she was propelled over thesnow, for several moments were matters of incomprehensible mystery tothe trembling girl. At first, she endeavoured to persuade herself thatit was a dream; but, having a consciousness that some terrible thinghad actually occurred, all the painful fears of which the mind iscapable were put in active operation. The suspense was soon dispelled.Hearing human voices ahead, and not readily comprehending thelanguage, she hastily rose on her elbow. The party of Indians draggingher fleetly over the smooth prairie met her chilled view. But she wasnow comparatively collected and calm. Instantly her true condition wasapparent. She watched the swarthy forms some moments in silence,meditating the means of escape. Presently one of the savages turnedpartly round, and she sank back to escape his observation. Again sherose up a few inches, and their faces were all turned away from her.She gradually acquired resolution to encounter any hardship or perilthat might be the means of effecting her escape. But what plan was sheto adopt? The almost interminable plain of which she was in the midstafforded no hiding-place. Then, the speed of the flying snow-canoe,were she to leap out, would not only produce a hurtful collision withthe hard snow-crust, but certainly cause her detection. The poorgirl's heart sank within her, and, for a time, she reclinedsubmissively in the canoe, and gave way to a flood of tears. Shethought of her gray-haired father, and a piercing agony thrilledthrough her breast. And she thought, too, of others--of Boone, of_Glenn_, and her pangs were hopelessly poignant. Thus she lay forseveral long hours, a prey to grief and despair. But some pityingangel hovered over her, and kindly lessened her sufferings. Bydegrees, her mind became possessed of the power of deliberate andrational reflection; and she was inspired with the belief that thesavages only designed to exact a heavy contribution from the whites byher capture, and would then surrender her up without outrage orinjury. Another hope, likewise, sprang up in her breast: it was, thatthe Indian she had been instrumental in releasing from captivity mightprotect her person, and, perhaps restore her to her father. She alsofelt convinced that Boone and Glenn would join her father in thepursuit, and she entertained a lively hope that they would overtakeher. But, again, when she looked out on the surface of the snow, andbeheld the rapidity of the savages' pace, this hope was entertainedbut for a moment. She then resolved to make an effort herself toescape. If she was not successful, it would, at all events, retard theprogress of her captors, and she might also ascertain, with somedegree of certainty, their purposes with regard to her fate. She roseas softly as possible and sprang upon the snow. The Indians, as shefeared, instantly felt the diminution of weight, and halted soabruptly that every one of them was prostrated on the slipperysnow-crust. Mary endeavoured to take advantage of this occurrence,and, springing quickly to her feet, fled rapidly in the oppositedirection. But before she had run many minutes, she heard the savagesin close pursuit and gaining upon her at every step. It was useless tofly. She tur
ned her head, and beheld the whole party within a fewpaces of her. The foremost was a tall athletic savage, bearing in hishand a tomahawk he had snatched from the snow-canoe, and wearing ademoniac scowl on his lip. Mary scanned his face and then turned hereyes to heaven. She felt that her end was near, and she breathed aprayer taught her by her buried mother. The savage rushed upon her,entwining his left hand in her flowing hair, and waving his tomahawkaloft with the other, was in the act of sinking the steel in the fairforehead before him, when the blow was arrested by a mere stripling,who came up at the head of the rest of the Indians. The Herculeansavage whirled round and scowled passionately at the youth. The youngIndian (the chief just elected in the place of Raven) regarded him amoment with gleaming eyes, and a determined expression of feature, andthen with much dignity motioned him away. The huge savage wasstrangely submissive in a moment, and obeyed without a murmur. Marywas conducted back to the snow-canoe by the young chief, who led herby the hand, while the rest walked behind. Once the young warriorturned and looked searchingly in the face of his fair prize, and shereturned the gaze with an instantaneous conviction that no personalharm was intended her. The chief was not half so dark as the rest ofhis tribe, and his countenance was open, generous, and noble. (It mayseem improbable to the unthinking reader that a timid and alarmedmaiden should be able to read the character of a foe by his featuresunder such circumstances. But those very circumstances tended toproduce such acuteness. And this is not only the case with humanbeings, but even with dumb brutes--for, at the moment they are aboutto be assailed, they invariably and instinctively look the assailantin the eye, mercy being the only remaining hope.) Again the youngwarrior turned to behold his captive's face, and Mary was in tears. Hepaused abruptly, and, after gazing some moments in silence and deepthought, resumed his pace. When they reached the snow-canoe, and whilein the act of lifting his captive into her couch, the young chiefobserved for the first time a massive ring of curious workmanship onher finger (the glove she had hitherto worn being partially torn fromher hand in the recent struggle,) and seemed to regard it with muchinterest. Mary saw that his eyes were riveted on the jewel, andnotwithstanding it possessed a hallowed value in having been worn byher mother, yet she felt that she could resign it to the one who hadsaved her life, and whose noble bearing, so different from that of therest, promised to shield her from future harm. But he neither asked itas a gift nor tore it from her, but turned away in silence, andordered the party to proceed. The command was instantly obeyed.

  There was another Indian that had attracted the notice of Mary--onewho studiously avoided her glance by constantly enveloping his face inhis hairy robe whenever she turned towards him. This he continued todo until she was again seated in the snow-canoe, and the order wasgiven to proceed on the journey. He then lingered behind the rest, andthrowing aside his mask, she saw before her the savage that had beenthrown within the inclosure by the explosion. He pointed to the north,the direction of her home, and, by sundry signs and grimaces, madeMary understand that he had not been a party to her capture, and thathe would endeavour to effect her escape. He then joined the others,and the poor girl was once more coursing over the prairie more rapidlythan ever.

  The savage rushed upon her, entwined his left hand inher flowing hair, and, waving his tomahawk aloft with the other, wasin the act of sinking the steel in the fair forehead before him, whenthe blow was arrested by a mere stripling, who came up at the head ofthe rest of the Indians.--P. 142]

  There was now mingled with the captive maiden's thoughts anothersubject of contemplation. It was the young chief. His image seemed tobe familiar to her dreamy visions, and she often thought that they hadreally met before. But when or where, her memory failed to designate.She was glad to find herself so unexpectedly under the protection ofone so brave and generous, and she hoped when her father and hisfriends should overtake them, he might not be hurt in the conflictthat must inevitably ensue.

  The Indians long continued their flight in silence. Scarce a word wasuttered, until the sun was sinking low in the west. And then Maryheard them speaking about the place of encampment; for her frequentintercourse With the savages, before the arrival of Glenn in thevicinity, had enabled her, as well as her father, to acquire animperfect knowledge of their language. But they still swept onward,without any diminution of speed. The chief had probably objected totheir making, a halt by a shake of the head, for Mary did not hear himreply to those who desired to stop.

  When the shades of night fell around, and the broad red face of themoon peeped over the eastern horizon, the party still careered overthe prairie. More than thirty miles had been traversed. The Indian ismore distinguished for bottom than speed, and has been known to pursuea victim, or fly in the retreat, more than twenty-four hours withoutresting. But this band had suffered much from fatigue before they setout with their captive. The attempt to surprise the fort had cost themboth blood and labour, and when the moon had risen midway up in theheavens, they again became clamorous for food and rest. The chief thentold them to turn from their course, and in a few minutes Mary sawthat they were approaching a grove of towering trees. Ere long theyhalted under an enormous beech, whose spreading and clusteringbranches not only greatly obscured the light from above, but had in agreat measure prevented the snow from covering the earth at its roots.It was not long before a fire was struck, and the savages havingscattered in every direction in quest of dry wood and bark, in a veryshort space of time a large bright blaze flashed up in their midst,around which they spread their buffalo robes and commenced preparingtheir venison. Each one cooked for himself, save the chief, who wasprovided proportionably by all. He offered Mary a part of his food,but she declined it. He then proffered to lift her from thesnow-canoe, and place her nearer the fire. This too she declined,stating that she was warm enough. She was likewise influenced in thisdetermination by the gestures of the Indian whom she had befriendedthe preceding night, who sat by in apparent unconcern, but at everyopportunity, by looks and signs, endeavoured to cheer and encouragethe captive maiden.

  After a hearty repast the savages, with the exception of the chief,rolled themselves in their warm, hairy robes before the glowing fire,and were soon steeped in profound slumber. The chief long reclined ina half-recumbent attitude on the couch that had been prepared for him,and fixing his eyes on the glaring flame, and sometimes on the palesad features of Mary, seemed to be under the influence of deep andpainful meditations. At times his features assumed a ferocity thatcaused Mary to start and tremble; but at others they wore a mournfulexpression, and ever and anon a tear rose up and glistened in his eye.Thus he sat for more than an hour after all the rest were sunk inmotionless slumber. Finally his bedecked head, adorned with aprofusion of rich and rare feathers, sunk by degrees on the rudepillow, and he too was soon wandering in the land of dreams.

  But sleep brooded not upon the watchful lids of Mary. She gazed insilence at the wild savage scene before her. The uncouth beings whohad so recently hooted and yelled like sanguinary demons, with intentto slay and pillage, around her father, her friends and herself, nowlay motionless, though free and still hostile, within a few feet ofher, and she was their captive! She thought of her humble but peacefulhome, and sighed bitterly. And she thought, too, of her distressedfriends, and she was the more distressed from the consciousness thatthey sympathized with her sufferings. Poor girl! She looked at thedark brows and compressed lips of her captors as the fitful flashes ofthe flames threw a bright ray upon them, and, in despite of the manyhopes she had entertained, she was horror-stricken to contemplate thereality of her sad predicament.

  At a late and solemn hour, the Indian who had been the captive thenight before, suddenly ceased his snoring, which had been heardwithout intermission for a great length of time; and when Maryinstinctively cast her eyes towards him, she was surprised to see himgently and slowly raise his head. He enjoined silence by placing hishand upon his mouth. After carefully disengaging himself from hiscomrades, he crept quietly away, and soon vanished ent
irely from sighton the northern side of the spreading beech. Mary expected he wouldsoon return and assist her to escape. Although she was aware of thehardships and perils that would attend her flight, yet the thought ofagain meeting her friends was enough to nerve her for the undertaking,and she waited with anxious impatience the coming of her rescuer. Buthe came not. She could attribute no other design in his conduct butthat of effecting her escape, and yet he neither came for her norbeckoned her away. She had reposed confidence in his promise, for sheknew that the Indian, savage as he was, rarely forfeited his word; butwhen gratitude inspired a pledge, she could not believe that he woulduse deceit. The fire was now burning quite low, and its waning lightscarce cast a beam upon the branches over head. It was evidently notfar from morning, and every hope of present escape entirely fled fromher bosom. But just as she was yielding to despair, she saw the Indianreturning in a stealthy pace, bearing some dark object in his arms. Heglided to her side, and beckoned her to leave the snow-canoe, and alsoto take with her all the robes with which she had been enveloped. Shedid his bidding, and then he carefully deposited the burden he bore inthe place she had just occupied. A portion of the object becomingunwrapped, Mary discovered it to be a huge mass of snow, resembling,in some respects, a human form, and the Indian's stratagem was at onceapparent to her. Relinquishing herself to his guidance, she was lednoiselessly through the bushes about a hundred paces distant from thefire, to a large fallen tree that had yielded to some furious storm,when her conductor paused. He pointed to a spot where a curve causedthe huge trunk to rise about a foot from the present surface, underwhich was a round hole cut through the drifted snow down to the earth,and in which were deposited several buffalo robes, and so arrangedthat a person could repose within without coming in contact with thefrozen element around. Mary looked down, and then at her companion, toascertain his intentions. He spoke to her in a low tone, enough ofwhich she comprehended to understand that he desired her to descendinto the pit without delay. She obeyed, and when he had carefullyfolded the robes and divers furs about her body, he stepped a fewpaces to one side, and gently lifting up a round lid of snow-crust,placed it over the aperture. It had been so smoothly cut, and fittedwith such precision when replaced, that no one would have been able todiscover that an incision had been made. He then bade Mary a "Dud by"in bad English, and set off in a run in a northern direction for thepurpose of joining the whites.

  Long and interminable seemed Mary's confinement to her, but she wasentirely comfortable in her hiding-place, as respected her body. Yetmany dreadful apprehensions oppressed her still. She feared that theIndians would soon ascertain that she had left the canoe, and returnand discover her place of concealment. At times she thought of thewild beasts prowling around, and feared they would devour her beforeassistance came. But the most harrowing fear was that the friendlyIndian would abandon her to her fate or perhaps be _killed_, withoutmaking known her locality and helpless condition! Thus was she a preyto painful apprehensions and worrying reflections, until fromexhaustion she sank into an unquiet and troubled slumber.

  With the first light of morning, the war-party sprang to their feet,and hastily dispatching a slight repast, they set out on their journeywith renewed animation and increased rapidity. Before starting, thechief called to Mary, and again offered some food; but no reply beingreturned, or motion discovered under the robe which he imaginedenveloped her, he supposed she was sleeping, and directed the party toselect the most even route when they emerged in the prairie, that shemight as much as possible enjoy her repose.

  The Indian who had planned and executed the escape of Mary, with thewell-devised cunning for which the race is proverbial, had told hiscompanions that he would rise before day and pursue the same directionthey were going in advance of them, and endeavour to kill a deer fortheir next night's meal. Thus his absence created no suspicion, andthe party continued their precipitate retreat.

  But, about noon, after casting many glances back at the supposed formof the captive reclining peacefully in the snow-canoe, the chief, withmuch excitement, betrayed by his looks, which seemed to be mingledwith an apprehension that she was dead, abruptly ordered the party tohalt. He sprang to the canoe, and convulsively tearing away the skinsdiscovered only the roll of snow! He at first compressed his lips inmomentary rage, and then burst into a fit of irrepressible laughter.But the rest raved and stamped, and uttered direful imprecations andthreats of vengeance. Immediately they were aware of the treachery ofthe absent Indian, and resolved with one voice that his blood shouldbe an atonement for the act. Their thoughts had dwelt too fondly onthe shining gold they were to get in exchange for the maiden, for themever to forgive the recreant brother who had snatched the prize fromthem. The chief soon recovered his usual grave expression, and partookin some measure the general disappointment and chagrin. His motiveswere not of the same mercenary cast which actuated his tribe, nor didhe condemn the conduct of the one who had rescued the maid, beingaware of the clemency extended him when in the power of the enemy; butthe thought of being outwitted and thwarted roused his anger, and hedetermined to recover the lost captive, if possible.

  The snow was quickly thrown out, and the war-party adjusted theirweapon's, with the expectation of encountering the whites; and thenwhirling about they retraced their steps even more swiftly than theyhad been advancing. Just as the night was setting in, they came insight of the grove where they had encamped. They slackened their pace,and looking eagerly forward, seemed to think it not improbable thatthe whites had arrived in the vicinity, and might be lying in ambushawaiting their return in search of the maid. They then abandoned thecanoe, after having concealed it under some low bushes, and enteredthe grove in a stooping and watchful posture. Ere long the chiefattained the immediate neighbourhood of the spreading tree, and withan arrow drawn to its head, crept within a few paces of the spot wherehe had lain the preceding night. His party were mostly a few feet inthe rear, while a few were approaching in the same manner from theopposite direction. Hearing no sound whatever, he rose up slowly, andwith an "Ugh" of disappointment, strode carelessly across the silentand untenanted place of encampment.

  Vexation and anger were expressed by the savages in being thusdisappointed. They hoped to wreak their vengeance on the whites, andhad resolved to recapture the maiden. Where they expected to findthem, the scene was silent and desolate. And they now sauntered aboutunder the trees in the partial light of the moon that struggledthrough the matted branches, threatening in the most horrid manner theone who had thus baffled them. Some struck their tomahawks into thetrunks of trees, while others brandished their knives, and uttereddireful yells. The young chief stood in silence, with his arms foldedon his breast. A small ray of light that fell upon his face exhibiteda meditative brow, and features expressing both firmness anddetermination. He had said that the captive should be regained, andhis followers ever and anon regarded his thoughtful attitude with theconfidence that his decision would accelerate the accomplishment oftheir desires. Long he remained thus, motionless and dignified, and noone dared to address him. [He had been elected chief by acclamation,after the death of Raven. He was not an Osage by birth, but had beencaptured from one of the neighbouring tribes (the Pawnee) when onlysix years old. His bravery, as he grew up, had elicited the admirationof the whole tribe, and it had long been settled that he shouldsucceed Raven. His complexion was many degrees lighter than that ofthe Osages, or even that of the Pawnees, and had it not been for thepaint and stains with which the warriors decorate their faces, hemight have passed, if properly attired, for an American. When taken inbattle he was saved from the torture by a young Indian maiden. Sheprocured his release and he refused to return to his own nation. Hesaid that he was no Pawnee, and when asked to what nation he belonged,he either could not or would not reply, but said he was satisfied tohunt and fight with any tribe, and if the chief would give him hisdaughter (the one that saved his life,) he would be an Osage. It wasdone, and his brave exploits soon won for him the title of the "YoungE
agle."]

  The young chief called one of the oldest of the party, who wasstanding a few paces distant absorbed in thought, to his side, andafter a short conference the old savage prostrated himself on thesnow, and endeavoured like a hound to scent the tracks of his recreantbrother. At first he met with no success, but when making a widecircuit round the premises, still applying his nose to the groundoccasionally, and minutely examining the bushes, he paused abruptly,and announced to the party that he had found the precise directiontaken by the maid and her deliverer. Instantly they all clusteredround him, evincing the most intense interest. Some smelt the surfaceof the snow, and others examined the bushes. Small twigs, not largerthan pins, were picked up and closely scrutinized. They well knew thatany one passing through the frozen and clustered bushes mustinevitably sever some of the twigs and buds. Their progress was slow,but unerring. The course they pursued was the direction taken by Maryand her rescuer. It was not long before they arrived within a few feetof the place of the maiden's concealment. But now they were at fault.There were no bushes immediately around the fallen tree. They paused,the chief in the van, with their bows and arrows and tomahawks inreadiness for instant use. They knew that the maiden could not returnto her friends on foot, or the treacherous savage be able to bear herfar on his shoulder. They thought that one or both must be concealedsomewhere in the neighbourhood, and the fallen tree, were it hollow,was the place most likely to be selected for that purpose. Afterscanning the fallen trunk a few minutes in silence, and discoveringnothing to realize their hopes, they uttered a terrific yell, andcommenced striking their tomahawks in the wood, and ripping up thebark in quest of some hiding-place. But their search was in vain. Thefallen trunk was sound and solid throughout, and the young chief satdown on it within three paces of Mary! Others, in passing about,frequently trod on the very verge of the concealed pit.

  Mary was awakened by the yell but knew not that the sound came fromher enemies. The Indian had told her that he would soon return, andher heart now fluttered with the hope that her father and her friendswere at hand. Yet she prudently determined not to rush from herconcealment until she was better assured of the fact. She did notthink the savages would suspect that she was hid under the snow, butyet she thought it very strange that her father did not come to her atonce. Several minutes had elapsed since she had been startled by thesounds in the immediate vicinity. She heard the tramp of men almostdirectly over her head, and the strokes against the fallen trunk. Shewas several times on the eve of rising up, but was as often withheldby some mysterious impulse. She endeavoured to reflect calmly, butstill she could not, by any mode of conjecture realize the probabilityof her foes having returned and traced her thither. Yet an undefinablefear still possessed her, and she endeavoured with patience to awaitthe pleasure of her friends. But when the chief seated himself in hervicinity, and fell into one of his fits of abstraction, and the wholeparty became comparatively still and hushed, the poor girl's suspensewas almost insufferable. She knew that human beings were all aroundher, and yet her situation was truly pitiable and lonely. She feltassured that if the war-party had returned in pursuit of her, the samemeans which enabled them to trace their victim to the fallen trunkwould likewise have sufficed to indicate her hiding-place. Then whyshould she hesitate? The yells that awakened her had not been hearddistinctly, and under the circumstances she could not believe that shewas surrounded by savages. On the other hand, if they were herfriends, why did they not relieve her? Now a sudden, but, alas!erroneous thought occurred to her. She was persuaded that they wereher friends, but that the friendly Indian was not with them--he hadperhaps directed them where she could be found, and then returned tohis home. Might not her friends, at that moment, be anxiouslysearching for her? Would not one word suffice to dispel theirsolicitude, and restore the lost one to their arms? She resolved tospeak. Bowing down her head slightly, so that her precise locationmight not instantly be ascertained, she uttered in a soft voice theword "FATHER!" The chief sprang from his seat, and the party wasinstantly in commotion. Some of the savages looked above, among thetwining branches, and some shot their arrows in the snow, butfortunately not in the direction of Mary, while others ran about inevery direction, examining all the large trees in the vicinity. Thechief was amazed and utterly confounded. He drew not forth an arrow,nor brandished a tomahawk. While he thus stood, and the rest of theparty were moving hurriedly about a few paces distant, Mary againrepeated the word "FATHER!" As suddenly as if by enchantment everysavage was paralyzed. Each stood as devoid of animation as a statue.For many moments an intense silence reigned, as if naught existedthere but the cheerless forest trees. Slowly, at length, the tomahawkwas returned to the belt, and the arrow to the quiver. No longer was adesire to spill blood manifested. The dusky children of the forestattributed to the mysterious sound a supernatural agency. Theybelieved it was a voice from the perennial hunting-grounds. Humblythey bowed their heads, and whispered devotions to the Great Spirit.The young chief alone stood erect. He gazed at the round moon abovehim, and sighs burst from his breast, and burning tears ran down hisstained cheek. Impatiently, by a motion of the hand, he directed thesavages to leave him, and when they withdrew he resumed his seat onthe fallen trunk, and reclined his brow upon his hand. One of the longfeathers that decked his head waved forward, after he had been seatedthus a few minutes, and when his eye rested upon it he started upwildly, and tearing it away, trampled it under his feet. At thatinstant the same "FATHER!" was again heard. The young chief fell uponhis knees, and, while he panted convulsively, said, in ENGLISH,"_Father! Mother! I'm your poor William--you loved me much--where areyou? Oh tell me--I will come to you--I want to see you!_" He then fellprostrate and groaned piteously. "Father! oh! where are you? Whosevoice was that?" said Mary, breaking through the slight incrustationthat obscured her, and leaping from her covert.

  The young chief sprang from the earth--gazed a moment at themaid--spoke rapidly and loudly in the language of his tribe to hisparty, who were now at the place of encampment, seated by the firethey had kindled--and then, seizing his tomahawk, was in the act ofhurling it at Mary, when the yells of the war-party and the ringingdischarges of firearms arrested his steel when brandished in the air.The white men had arrived! The young, chief seized Mary by her longflowing hair--again prepared to level the fatal blow--when she turnedher face upwards, and he again hesitated. Discharges in quicksuccession, and nearer than before, still rang in his ears. Marystrove not to escape. Nor did the Indian strike. The whites were heardrushing through the bushes--the chief seized the trembling girl in hisarms--a bullet whizzed by his head--but, unmindful of danger, hevanished among the dark bushes with his burden.