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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The White Squaw, by Mayne Reid
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The White Squaw
+
+Author: Mayne Reid
+
+Illustrator: Anonymous
+
+Release Date: July 3, 2011 [EBook #36604]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WHITE SQUAW ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
+
+
+
+
+The White Squaw
+By Captain Mayne Reid
+Illustrations by Anon
+Published by George Routledge and Sons.
+This edition dated 1875.
+The White Squaw, by Captain Mayne Reid.
+
+________________________________________________________________________
+
+________________________________________________________________________
+THE WHITE SQUAW, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE.
+
+A DEADLY INTRODUCTION.
+
+The last golden gleams of the setting sun sparkled across the
+translucent waters of Tampa Bay.  This fading light fell upon shores
+fringed with groves of oak and magnolia, whose evergreen leaves became
+gradually darkened by the purple twilight.
+
+A profound silence, broken by the occasional notes of a tree-frog, or
+the flapping of the night-hawk's wings, was but the prelude to that
+wonderful concert of animated nature heard only in the tropical forest.
+
+A few moments, and the golden lines of trembling light had disappeared,
+while darkness almost palpable overshadowed the scene.
+
+Then broke forth in full chorus the nocturnal voices of the forest.
+
+The mocking-bird, the whip-poor-will, the bittern, the bell-frog,
+grasshoppers, wolves, and alligators, all joined in the harmony incident
+to the hour of night, causing a din startling to the ear of a stranger.
+
+Now and then would occur an interval of silence, which rendered the
+renewal of the voices all the more observable.
+
+During one of these pauses a cry might have been heard differing from
+all the other sounds.
+
+It was the voice of a human being, and there was one who heard it.
+
+Making his way through the woods was a young man, dressed in half-hunter
+costume, and carrying a rifle in his hand.  The cry had caused him to
+stop suddenly in his tracks.
+
+After glancing cautiously around, as if endeavouring to pierce the thick
+darkness, he again advanced, again came to a stop, and remained
+listening.  Once more came that cry, in which accents of anger were
+strangely commingled with tones appealing for help.
+
+This time the sound indicated the direction, and the listener's
+resolution was at once taken.
+
+Thrusting aside the undergrowth, and trampling under foot the tall
+grass, he struck into a narrow path running parallel to the shore, and
+which led in the direction whence the cry appeared to have come.
+
+Though it was now quite dark, he seemed easily to avoid impediments,
+which even in broad daylight would have been difficult to pass.
+
+The darkness appeared no barrier to his speed, and neither the
+overhanging branches, nor the wood-bine roots stayed his progress.
+
+About a hundred paces further on, the path widened into a rift that led
+to an opening, sloping gradually down to the beach.
+
+On reaching its edge, he paused once more to listen for a renewal of the
+sound.
+
+Nothing save the familiar noises of the night greeted his ear.
+
+After a short pause, he kept on for the water's edge, with head well
+forward, and eyes strained to penetrate the gloom.
+
+At that moment the moon shot out from behind a heavy bank of clouds,
+and, with a brilliant beam, disclosed to his eager gaze a tableau of
+terrible interest.
+
+Down by the water's edge lay the body of an Indian youth, motionless,
+and to all appearance dead; while stooping over it was another youth,
+also an Indian.  He appeared to be examining the body.
+
+For some seconds there was no change in his attitude.  Then, all at once
+he raised himself erect, and with a tomahawk that flashed in the
+moonlight above his head, appeared in the act of dealing a blow.
+
+The hatchet descended; but not upon the body that lay prostrate.
+
+A sharp report ringing on the air for an instant silenced all other
+sounds.  The would-be assassin sprang up almost simultaneously, and two
+corpses instead of one lay along the earth.
+
+So thought he who fired the shot, and who was the young man already
+described.  He stayed not to speculate, but rushed forward to the spot
+where the two Indians lay.  He had recognised them both.  The one upon
+the ground was Nelatu, the son of Oluski, a distinguished Seminole
+chief.  The other was Red Wolf, a well-grown youth belonging to the same
+tribe.
+
+Only glancing at the would-be assassin to see that he was dead, he bent
+over the body of Nelatu, placed his hand upon the region of his heart,
+at the same time anxiously scanning his features.
+
+Suddenly he uttered an exclamation of surprise.  Beneath his fingers a
+weak pulsation gave signs of life.  Nelatu might yet be saved.
+
+Pulling off his hat, he ran down to the beach, filled it with water,
+and, returning, sprinkled the forehead of the young Indian.
+
+Then taking a flask containing brandy from his pouch, he poured a
+portion of its contents down the throat of the unconscious youth.
+
+These kindly offices he repeated several times, and was finally rewarded
+for his pains.  The blood slowly mantled Nelatu's cheek; a shivering ran
+through his frame; and with a deep sigh he gazed dreamily upon his
+preserver, and at the same time faintly murmured "Warren."
+
+"Yes, Warren!  Speak, Nelatu.  What is the meaning of this?"
+
+The Indian had only the strength to mutter the words "Red Wolf," at the
+same time raising his hand to his side with apparent difficulty.
+
+The gesture made his meaning clear.  Warren's gaze rested upon a deep
+wound from which the blood was still welling.
+
+By the tremulous movement of his lips, Warren saw that he was
+endeavouring to speak again.  But no sound came from them.  His eyes
+gradually became closed.  He had once more fainted.
+
+Warren instantly flung off his coat, tore one of the sleeves from his
+shirt, and commenced staunching the blood.
+
+After a time it ceased to flow, and then tearing off the second sleeve,
+with his braces knotted together, he bound up the wound.
+
+The wounded youth slowly recovered consciousness, and, looking
+gratefully up into his face, pressed the hand of his deliverer.
+
+"Nelatu owes Warren life.  He will some day show his gratitude."
+
+"Don't think of that now.  Tell me what has happened?  I heard your cry,
+and hastened to your assistance."
+
+"Not Nelatu's cry," responded the Indian, with a faint blush of pride
+suffusing his face.  "Nelatu is the son of a chief.  He knows how to die
+without showing himself a woman.  It was Red Wolf who cried out."
+
+"Red Wolf!"
+
+"Yes; Red Wolf is a coward--a squaw; 'twas he who cried out."
+
+"He will never cry out again.  Look there!" said Warren, pointing to the
+lifeless corpse that lay near.
+
+Nelatu had not yet seen it.  Unconscious of what had transpired, he
+believed that Red Wolf, supposing him dead, had gone away from the spot.
+
+Warren explained.
+
+Still more gratefully did the Indian youth gaze upon the face of his
+preserver.
+
+"You had an encounter with Red Wolf?  I can see that, of course; it was
+he who gave you this wound?"
+
+"Yes, but I had first defeated him.  I had him on the ground in my
+power.  I could have taken his life.  It was then that, like a coward,
+he called for help."
+
+"And after?"
+
+"I pitied and let him rise.  I expected him to leave me, and go back to
+the village.  He feared that I might speak of his defeat to our tribe,
+and for this he determined that my tongue should be for ever silent.  I
+was not thinking of it when he thrust me from behind.  You know the
+rest."
+
+"And why the quarrel?"
+
+"He spoke wicked words of my sister, Sansuta."
+
+"Sansuta!" exclaimed Warren, a strange smile overshadowing his features.
+
+"Yes; and of you."
+
+"The dog; then he doubly deserved death.  And from _me_!" he added, in a
+tone not loud enough for Nelatu to hear, "what a lucky chance."
+
+As he said this he spurned the body with his foot.
+
+Then turning to the Indian, he asked--
+
+"Do you think you could walk a little, Nelatu?"
+
+The brandy had by this time produced an effect.  Its potent spirit
+supplied the loss of blood, and Nelatu felt his strength returning to
+him.
+
+"I will try," said the wounded youth.  "Nelatu's hour has not yet come.
+He must not die till he has paid his debt to Warren."
+
+"Then lean on me.  My canoe is close by.  Once in it you can rest at
+your ease."
+
+Nelatu nodded consent.
+
+Warren assisted him to rise, and, half carrying, half supporting,
+conducted him to the canoe.
+
+Carefully helping him aboard, he shoved the craft from the shore, and
+turned its prow in the direction of the white settlement.
+
+The moon, that had become again obscured, once more burst through the
+black clouds, lighting up the fronds of the feathery palms that flung
+their shadows far over the pellucid waves.
+
+The concert of the nocturnal forest, for a time stayed by the report of
+the rifle, burst out anew as the boat glided silently out of sight.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO.
+
+THE SETTLEMENT.
+
+The site of the settlement to which the canoe was being directed merits
+description.
+
+It was upon the northern shore of Tampa Bay.
+
+The soil that had been cleared was rich in crops of cotton, indigo,
+sugar, with oranges, and the ordinary staples of food.
+
+Through the cultivated lands, mapped out like a painter's palette, ran a
+crystal stream, from which the rice fields were watered by intersecting
+rivulets, looking like silver threads in a tissue.
+
+Orange groves margined its course, running sinuously through the
+settlement.
+
+In places it was lost to sight, only to re-appear with some new feature
+of beauty.
+
+Here and there it exhibited cascades and slight waterfalls that danced
+in the sunlight, sending up showers of prismatic spray.
+
+There were islets upon which grew reeds, sedges, and canes, surmounted
+by groups of caricas, and laurel-magnolias, the exogenous trees
+overtopped by the tall, feathery palm.
+
+In its waters wild fowl disported themselves, scattering showers of
+luminous spray as they flapped their wings in delight.
+
+Birds of rare plumage darted hither and thither along its banks,
+enlivening the groves with their jocund notes.
+
+Far beyond, the swamp forest formed a dark, dreary back-ground, which,
+by contrast, enhanced the cheerfulness of the scene.
+
+Looking seaward, the prospect was no less resplendent of beauty.
+
+The water, dashing and fretting against the rocky quays, glanced back in
+mist and foam.
+
+Snow-white gulls hurried along the horizon, their wings cutting sharply
+against an azure sky, while along the silvery beach, tall, blue herons,
+brown cranes, and scarlet flamingoes, stood in rows, their forms
+reflected in the pellucid element.
+
+Such were the surroundings of the settlement on Tampa Bay.
+
+The village itself nestled beneath the hills already mentioned, and
+comprised a church, some half-dozen stores, with a number of substantial
+dwellings, whilst a rude wharf, and several schooners moored near by,
+gave tokens of intercourse with other places.
+
+It was a morning in May, in Florida, as elsewhere, the sweetest month in
+the year.
+
+Borne upon the balmy atmosphere was the hum of bees and the melody of
+birds, mingled with the voices of young girls and men engaged in the
+labour of their farms and fields.
+
+The lowing of cattle could be heard in the distant grazing grounds,
+while the tillers of the soil were seen at work upon their respective
+plantations.
+
+There was one who looked upon this cheerful scene without seeming to
+partake of its cheerfulness.
+
+Standing upon the top of the hill was a man of tall, gaunt figure, with
+a face somewhat austere in its expression.
+
+His strongly lined features, with a firm expression about the mouth,
+marked him for a man of no common mould.
+
+He appeared to be about sixty.
+
+As his keen grey eyes wandered over the fields below, there was a cold,
+determined light in them which betrayed no pleasant train of thought.
+
+It spoke of covetous ambition.
+
+Behind him, upon the hill top, of table shape, were poles standing up
+out of the earth.  Around them the sward was trampled, and the scorched
+grass, worn in many directions into paths, signified that at no distant
+period the place had been inhabited.
+
+The sign could not be mistaken; it was the site of an Indian encampment.
+
+Elias Rody, as he turned from gazing on the panoramic view beneath, cast
+a glance of strange significance at these vestiges of the red-man's
+habitation.
+
+His features assumed a sharper cast, while a cloud came over his face.
+
+"But for them," he muttered, "my wishes would be accomplished, my
+desires fulfilled."
+
+What were his wishes?  What his desires?
+
+Ask the covetous man such a question, and, if he answered truly, his
+answer would tell a tale of selfish aspirations.  He would envy youth
+its brightness, old age its wisdom, virtue its content, love its joys,
+ay, even Heaven itself its rewards, and yet, in the narrow bigotry of
+egotism, think he only claimed his own.
+
+Elias Rody was a covetous man, and such were the thoughts at that moment
+in his mind.
+
+They were too bitter for silence, and vented themselves in words, which
+the winds alone listened to.
+
+"Why should these red-skins possess what I so deeply long for; and only
+for their short temporary enjoyment?  I would be fair with them; but
+they wrap themselves up in their selfish obstinacy, and scorn my
+offers."
+
+How selfish others appear to a selfish man!
+
+"Why should they continue to restrain me?  If gold is worth anything,
+surely it should repay them for what can be only a mere fancy.  I shall
+try Oluski once again, and if he refuse--"
+
+Here the speaker paused.
+
+For some time he stood in contemplation, his eye roving over the distant
+view.
+
+As it again lighted upon the settlement a smile, not a pleasant one,
+curled his lip.
+
+"Well, there is time yet," said he, as if concluding an argument with
+himself.  "I will once more try the golden bribe.  I will use caution;
+but here will I build my house, come what may."
+
+This natural conclusion, to an egotistic mind, appeared satisfactory.
+
+It seemed to soothe him, for he strode down the hill with a springy,
+elastic step, more like that of a young man than one over whose head had
+passed sixty eventful years.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE.
+
+ELIAS RODY.
+
+Whilst Elias Rody is pondering upon his scheme, let us tell the reader
+who he is.
+
+A Georgian, who began life without any fixed idea.
+
+His father, a wealthy merchant of Savannah, had brought him up to do
+nothing; and, until he had attained man's estate, he faithfully carried
+out his father's teaching.
+
+Like many Southern lads borne to competence, he could not appreciate the
+dignity of labour, and accordingly loitered through his youthful life,
+wasting both time and patrimony before discovering that idleness is a
+curse.
+
+At his father's death, which happened upon Elias reaching his twentieth
+year, all the worthy merchant's property descended to the son, and the
+idler suddenly found himself the possessor of a large sum of money with
+a sort of feeling that something was to be done with it.
+
+He accordingly spent it.
+
+Spent it recklessly, freely and rapidly, and then discovered that what
+he _had_ done was not the thing he _should_ have done.
+
+He then became reformed.
+
+Which meant, that from a liberal, open-handed, careless fellow, he
+changed to a cynical, cautious man.
+
+With a small remnant of his fortune, and an inheritance from a distant
+relative, Elias became a man of the world, or rather, a worldly man.
+
+In other words, he began life for a second time, and on an equally wrong
+basis.
+
+Before his eyes were two classes of his equals.  Reckless men with large
+hearts, and careful men with no hearts at all, for such was the
+organisation of the society surrounding him.
+
+Of the first class he had full experience; of the second he had none
+whatever.
+
+To the latter he resolved to attach himself.
+
+It is useless wondering why this should have been.  Perhaps he had never
+been fitted for the community of large-hearted men, and had only mixed
+with them through novelty, or ignorance of his own station.
+
+Be this as it may, one thing is certain, he became before long a most
+exemplary member of the society he had selected for imitation.  No one
+drove a closer bargain, saw an advantage (to himself), or could lay
+surer plans for securing it, than Elias Rody.
+
+He learned, also, to control, and in every way wield influence over
+those around him.  Power became his dream.  He was ambitious of
+governing men.
+
+Strange to say, this feeling was almost fatal to his prospects.  We say
+strange, because ambition generally carves its own road, and moulds its
+own fortune.
+
+Rody, however, had commenced an active career too late to arrive at much
+importance in the political world--that grand arena for attaining
+distinction.
+
+He therefore cast about him for another field of ambitious strife, and
+speedily found it.
+
+At this time throughout the state of Georgia were many planters, who,
+without capital to purchase additional property, found themselves daily
+growing poorer as their land became worn out with exhausting crops.
+
+These men were naturally enough the grumblers and discontented spirits
+of the community.
+
+Another class were those with little save a restless disposition, ever
+ready for any venture that may arise.
+
+Rody, shrewd and plausible, saw in these men the very instruments for a
+purpose he had long thought of, and had well matured.
+
+"If I cannot attain the object of my wishes here," said he, to himself,
+"perhaps I may be successful elsewhere, if I can only persuade others to
+join me.  These are men ready to my hand; I will take them with me, they
+shall be my followers; and whilst contributing their means to my end,
+they will look upon me as a benefactor."
+
+Rody, it will be seen, was a thorough egotist.
+
+This idea becoming fixed in his mind, the rest was easy.  He spoke to
+them of their present condition; drew a brilliant picture of what might
+be achieved in a new land; painted with masterly eloquence the increase
+of wealth and happiness his plan presented, and finely gathered around
+him a large number of families, with whom he started from Georgia, and
+settled in that section of Florida we have described.
+
+The reason for Rody's selection of this spot was another proof of his
+profound selfishness.
+
+In his reckless, generous days, he had, on the occasion of a visit to
+Columbus, been the means of saving from insult and outrage a Seminole
+chief, who had visited the capital upon some business connected with the
+State Government.
+
+This act of generosity had been impulsive; but, to the Indian, it
+assumed the proportion of a life-long debt.
+
+In the fulness of his gratitude, the chief caused papers and titles to
+be drawn up in Rody's favour, giving a grant of a portion of his own
+property lying on the shores of Tampa Bay.
+
+The Indian chief was named Oluski.
+
+The grant of land was the settlement we have spoken of.
+
+Rody, at the time, made light of Oluski's gratitude, and thrust the
+title into his desk without bestowing a second thought on the matter.
+
+Now, in his days of worldly wisdom, these papers with the Seminole's
+emblematic signature, were brought to light with a very different
+appreciation.
+
+He saw that they represented value.
+
+Elias Rody accordingly determined to make use of them.
+
+It ended in his carrying a colony southward, and settling upon Tampa
+Bay.
+
+The scheme originated in selfishness turned out a success.
+
+The lands were valuable, the climate salubrious, and the colony thrived.
+
+A bad man may sometimes do a good thing without intending it.
+
+Rody received even more credit and renown than he had expected; and,
+being a shrewd man, he achieved a part of his ambition.
+
+He was looked up to as the most important personage in the community.
+
+Although some of the settlers did not approve of all his measures,
+still, their opposition was rather negative than positive, and had, as
+yet, found vent only in remonstrances or grumbling.
+
+None had dared to question his prerogative, although he often rode a
+high horse, and uttered his diction in a tone offensively arrogant.
+
+What more, then, did Elias Rody want?
+
+A covetous man always wants more.  Oluski's gift was a noble one.  It
+covered a large area of fertile land, with water privileges, and a
+harbour for trade.  It was the choicest portion of his possessions.  The
+chief, in bestowing it, gave as a generous man gives to a friend.  He
+gave the best he had.
+
+Unfortunately the best he had did not embrace the hill; and, therefore,
+Rody was unsatisfied.
+
+More than once during the progress of the settlement, he had cast a
+wishful eye upon the spot, as the choicest site in the whole district
+for a dwelling.
+
+As his means expanded so had his tastes, and a grand dwelling became the
+great desire of his life.
+
+It must, perforce, be built upon the hill.
+
+To every offer made to Oluski for a cession of this spot, the chief had
+firmly and steadfastly given a refusal.  He, too, had his ambition;
+which, although not so selfish as the white man's, was not a whit less
+cherished.
+
+For nine months in the year Oluski and his tribe dwelt in a distant
+Indian town, and only visited the waters of Tampa Bay for the remaining
+three, and then only for the purposes of pleasure.  The wigwams of
+himself and people were but temporarily erected upon the hill.  For all
+this they had an attachment for the spot; in short, they loved it.
+
+This was what Elias Rody stigmatised as a mere fancy.
+
+There was another reason held in similar estimation by Elias.  In the
+rear of their annual encampment was an Indian cemetery.  The bones of
+Oluski's ancestors reposed therein.  Was it strange the spot should be
+dear to him?
+
+So dear was it, in fact, that to every proposal made by Rody for the
+purchase of the hill, Oluski only shook his head, and answered "No."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR.
+
+CRIS CARROL.
+
+Nelatu recovered from his wounds.
+
+Warren had conducted him to a hut, the temporary residence of a man of
+the name of Cris Carrol.
+
+This individual was a thorough specimen of a backwood's hunter.
+
+He was rough in manner, but in disposition gentle as a child.
+
+He detested the formalities and restrictions of civilisation.
+
+Even a new settlement had an oppressive air to him, which he could not
+endure.
+
+It was only the necessity of disposing of his peltries and laying in a
+stock of ammunition that brought him into any spot where his fellow
+creatures were to be found.
+
+To Cris Carrol the sombre forest, the lonely savannah, or the trackless
+swamp, were the congenial homes, and bitterly he adjured the compulsory
+sojourn of a few days every year amongst those to whom society is a
+pleasure.
+
+It was always a joyful day to him when he could shoulder his rifle,
+sling his game bag over his shoulder, and start anew upon his lonely
+explorations.
+
+When Warren brought the wounded Indian to Carrol's rude hut, the old
+backwoodsman accepted the responsibility, and set himself to the task of
+healing his wounds with alacrity.
+
+Nelatu was known to him, and he was always disposed to be a friend to
+the red man.
+
+"No, of course not," said he to Warren, in answer to his explanation; "I
+don't see as how you could take the red-skin up to the governor's house.
+Old dad wouldn't say no, but he'd look mighty like wishin' to.  No,
+Warren, lad, you've done the right thing this time, and no mistake, and
+that there's sayin' more nor I would always say.  Leave the boy to me.
+Bless you, he'll be all right in a day or two, thanks to a good
+constitution, along of living like a nat'ral being, and not like one of
+them city fellows as must try and make 'emselves unhealthy by sleepin'
+in beds, and keeping warm by sittin' aside of stoves, as if dried leaves
+and dried sticks warn't enough for 'em."
+
+Carrol's skill as a physician was little short of marvellous.
+
+He compounded and prepared medicines according to unwritten
+prescriptions, and used the oddest materials; not alone herbs and roots,
+but earths and clays were laid under contribution.
+
+A few days of this forest doctoring worked wonders in Nelatu, and before
+a week was over he was able to sit at the back door of the hunter's
+dwelling, basking himself in the sun.
+
+Carrol, who had been in a fever of anxiety greater even than his
+patient, was in high glee at this.
+
+After giving the Indian youth a preparation to allay his thirst, he was
+on the point of packing up his traps to start upon one of his
+expeditions, when he saw an individual approaching his cabin from the
+front.
+
+Thinking it was Warren Rody, he called out to him that Nelatu was all
+right.
+
+He was somewhat surprised to perceive that instead of Warren, it was his
+father.
+
+"Good morning, neighbour," said Elias.
+
+"Mornin', governor."
+
+"How is your Indian patient?" asked he whom Carrol called governor.  "I
+hope he has entirely recovered."
+
+"Oh, he's ready now, for the matter of that, to stan' another tussle,
+and take another thrust.  It wasn't much of a wound arter all."
+
+"Oh, indeed," said Elias; "I heard from my son Warren that it was a bad
+one."
+
+"Perhaps your son ain't used to sich sights; there's a good deal in
+that.  Would you like to see the Injun?  He's outside, at the back."
+
+"No, thank you, Carrol; I didn't come to see him, but you.  Are you
+busy?"
+
+"Well, not so busy but I kin talk a spell to you, governor, if you
+wishes it.  I war only packin' up a few things ready for a start
+to-morrow."
+
+Saying this, Carrol handed the governor a stool--the furniture of his
+hut not boasting of a chair.
+
+"And so you're off to-morrow, are you?"
+
+"Yes, I can't stand this here idle life any longer than I'm obleeged;
+'taint my sort.  Give me the woods and the savanners."
+
+At the very thought of returning to them the backwoodsman smacked his
+lips.
+
+"When did you see Oluski last?" abruptly asked Elias.
+
+"It war a fortnight ago, governor, near as my memory sarves me; just
+arter I'd shot the fattest buck killed this season.  Oluski's people war
+all in a state o' excitement at the time."
+
+"Indeed; about what?"
+
+"Wal, Oluski's brother, who war chief o' another tribe, died not long
+'fore, and his son, Wacora, had succeeded to the chiefship.  Oluski was
+mighty perlite to his nephy, who war on a visit to Oluski's town when I
+war thar.  I expect they'll all be hyar soon.  It's about thar time o'
+comin' to Tampa."
+
+"Did you see this Wacora, as you call him?"
+
+"I did so, governor," answered Carrol, "and a likely Injun he is."
+
+Elias sat for some moments silent, during which time Cris busied himself
+over his gun.
+
+After a time he put the question--
+
+"Is that all you ha' to say, governor?"
+
+The governor, as Carrol styled him, started at this abrupt
+interrogatory.
+
+"No, Carrol, that is not all.  What I have to say is this.  You are a
+friend to the red-skins?"
+
+"Yes, siree, so long as they behaves themselves, I am," promptly replied
+Cris.
+
+"I also am their friend," said Rody, "and want to deal fairly by them.
+They have, however, a foolish sort of pride that makes it difficult,
+especially in some matters.  You know what I mean, do you not?"
+
+"Yes, I see," rejoined the hunter, in a careless drawl.
+
+"Well, in a bit of business I have with Oluski, I thought a friend might
+manage with him better than I could myself."
+
+The governor paused to give Carrol an opportunity of replying.
+
+The backwoodsman, however, did not avail himself of it.
+
+"So you see, Carrol," continued Elias, "I thought that you might act the
+part of that friend in the negotiation I allude to."
+
+"No, I don't quite see _that_," said Cris, looking up with an odd smile
+upon his face, and a twinkle in his eye.  "But come, governor, tell me
+what you want done, and I'll tell you whether I kin do it."
+
+"Well, then, Carrol, I will."
+
+The governor drew his stool nearer to Cris, as if about to impart some
+confidential secret.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE.
+
+PLAIN SPEECH.
+
+The backwoodsman preserved a wary look, as if suspicious of an attempt
+to corrupt him.
+
+He was not alarmed.  Cris Carrol knew himself to be incorruptible.
+
+"Well, Mr Carrol," proceeded the governor, after a pause; "you know
+that my settlement has prospered, and, as you may imagine, I have made
+money along with the rest?"
+
+"Yes, I know that," was the curt answer.
+
+"And, having now got a little ahead of the world, I feel that I have a
+right to indulge some of my fancies.  I want a better house, for
+instance."
+
+"Do you, now?" said Cris.
+
+"And so I've made up my mind to build; and I want a good site.  Now you
+see what I am driving at."
+
+"Well, no; I can't say that I do exactly."
+
+"Why, Cris, you are dull to-day.  I say I want a good site for my new
+house."
+
+"Well, ain't you got hundreds of acres--enough and to spare for the most
+tremenjous big house as was ever built?"
+
+"That's true; but on all my land there's not a spot I really like.  Does
+that seem strange to you?"
+
+"Mighty strange to me, but, perhaps, not so strange to you, governor."
+
+"But there _is_ a bit of ground, Cris," continued Elias, "that I do like
+exceedingly.  The worst of it is it's not mine."
+
+"Why don't you buy it?"
+
+"Just what I wish to do; but the owner won't sell."
+
+"Perhaps you don't offer enough."
+
+"No; that's not the reason."
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"Do you know the top of the hill?" abruptly asked Rody.
+
+"What, where the Injuns make their camp?"
+
+"Yes; that's the place where I want to build.  Oluski won't sell that
+piece of property to me.  Why, I don't know."
+
+The governor did not stick very closely to the truth while talking on
+matters of business.
+
+"Wal, what I have I to do with that?" asked the backwoodsman.
+
+"Why, I thought if you were to see Oluski, perhaps you might talk him
+into letting me have the ground.  I've set my mind on it; and I wouldn't
+care if it cost me a good round sum.  I'll pay you well for any trouble
+you may take in helping me."
+
+Elias Rody had but one estimation of his fellow man, and that was, that
+every one has his price.
+
+In the present instance he was mistaken.
+
+"It won't do, governor; it won't do," said Carrol, shaking his head.  "I
+see now, plain as can be, what you're after; but I won't help you in it.
+If you wants the property, and Oluski won't let you have it, then the
+Injun's got his own reasons, and it ain't for me to try and change 'em.
+Besides," added he, "I don't like the job; so no offence meant, but I
+must say now--and I says it once and for all.  Is that all you've got to
+say to me?"
+
+The governor bit his lips with vexation; but, possessing a wonderful
+command over his temper, he merely inquired what his son had said about
+Nelatu.
+
+"Well, sir, he didn't say much about anything special, except to ask me
+to look after the Injun lad, and see to his wounds.  I did that in
+first-class style, and, as I told you before, _he's_ all right.  Your
+son has been down every day to see my patient, as the doctor chaps calls
+them they physics.  He 'peared mighty anxious to know how it was that he
+had come over to this part of the country alone, and where was the young
+girl, his sister."
+
+"Ah! so he was inquiring about her, was he?" exclaimed Rody, rising, and
+pacing the hut with restless steps.  He was glad of a pretext for his
+rage.
+
+The backwoodsman uttered a prolonged whistle.
+
+Suddenly pausing in his impatient strides, the governor faced towards
+him.
+
+"So he was anxious about her, was he?"
+
+Elias Rody was evidently out of temper, and not now afraid to show it.
+But Carrol was not exactly the person to care much about this.
+
+"He was," was his cool answer; "but I don't know how I've got anything
+to do with it, except to tell him, and you, too, for the matter of that,
+that the red man has his rights and feelings.  Yes, and they're both
+worth considerin' as much as if they war pale-faces like ourselves."
+
+"And why to me, sir?" asked the governor.
+
+"Well, just because I ain't afraid to say to your face what I'd say
+behind your back, and that is, that your son had better stop thinking
+about that gurl, Sansuta, as soon as may be, and that you'd best see to
+it afore worse happens."
+
+A very outspoken man was the backwoodsman, and Elias Rody was sorry now
+for having visited him.
+
+Before he could recover from his surprise, Carrol returned speech.
+
+"There ain't no good, governor, in mincing matters.  Last year, when
+Oluski war here, your son war always prowlin' 'bout the Injun
+encampment, and down in the grove war thar gurl used to be.  He war
+always a talkin' to the chief's darter, and making presents to her.  I
+know what I seed, and it warn't jest the thing."
+
+"Perfectly natural, man," said the governor, mastering his chagrin, and
+speaking calmly; "perfectly natural, all that, seeing that Nelatu,
+Sansuta, and my son grew up as children together."
+
+"All that may be; but it ain't no use applyin' it now that they're most
+growed up to be man and woman, and you knows it, governor, as well as I
+do.  As for Nelatu, he don't amount to shucks; and I sometimes wonder
+whether he is Oluski's son after all."
+
+The home truth in the first part of Carrol's speech pleased the
+"governor" as little as any of his previous remarks; and, surprised at
+the freedom of the backwoodsman's language, he was silent.
+
+Not so Cris, who had evidently determined to say more.  His garrulity
+was unusual; and, once started, he was too honest to hold his peace.
+
+"Governor, there's many things I've had in me to say to you at a
+convenient time.  That time's come, I reckon, and I may as well clur it
+off my mind.  I don't belong to yur colony.  I'm only a 'casional
+visitor, but I sees and hears things as others don't seem to dare to
+tell you o', though why I can't fancy; for you're only a man arter all,
+although you air the head man o' the settlement.  As near as I can fix
+it in my mind, all yur people hev settled hyar on land that once
+belonged to the Injun.  This bein' the case, it seems to me that the
+same laws as is made for the white man is made for the red-skins too.
+Now, governor, it ain't so; or, if they are made, they ain't carried
+out; and, when there's an advantage to be got for the white man at the
+expense of the Injun, why, you see, the law's strained just a leetle to
+give it.  It's only a leetle now, but by and bye it'll be a good deal.
+I know you'll say that's only natural, too, because that's the way you
+think; but I tell you, Mr Rody," here Carrol became excited, "that it
+_ain't_ natural no how; and it ain't right; and, therefore, mischief's
+sure to come o' it.  Now, I tell _you_, because you've more brains and
+more money than any o' the rest, of course you've got more to answer
+for.  So them's my sentiments, and you're welcome to them whether you
+like 'em or no."
+
+"Well, Mr Carrol," replied Rody, with a withering emphasis on the
+"Mister," "I'm glad you've given me your opinion--it's a valuable one,
+no doubt."
+
+"I don't know whether it's a valyable one, but I know it's a honest
+one," answered Cris, with a quiet dignity, that, despite his rough
+dress, bespoke him a gentleman.  "I have no object in giving advice to
+you, governor.  I only feel it a duty, and I like to discharge my
+duties.  The same way I thinks about your son Warren running after this
+Injun girl.  No good'll come o' that neyther."
+
+Whatever reply the "governor" would have made to this last observation
+was cut short by the entrance of Warren Rody himself.
+
+Seen now in the light of open day, the young man presented a strange
+contrast to his father.  Of small stature, effeminate countenance,
+restless, shifting eyes, and a vacillating expression of mouth, he did
+not look like the son of the hard, rugged man who stood beside him.
+
+He was neatly, almost foppishly dressed, and had a self-sufficient air
+not altogether pleasant.  He seemed like one who would rather pass
+through the world with oily smoothness than assert himself with
+confidence of power and honesty of purpose.
+
+By one of those strange mental impressions impossible to account for,
+both Cris and the "governor" felt that Warren had been a listener.
+
+If so, he did not betray any sign of annoyance at what he had heard, but
+stood smilingly tapping his boot with a handsome riding-whip.
+
+"Ah, father, you here?  Have you come to see the invalid, or to say
+`good bye' to the hunter, who tells me he is off to the wilderness
+to-morrow?"
+
+His father did not answer him, but, turning to Carrol, said--
+
+"The matter I intended to have spoken to you about will do at another
+time; but I'm still much obliged to you for your _good_ advice."
+
+This was spoken with as much cutting politeness as could be well pressed
+into the speech.
+
+As he turned to leave, he said aside to his son, "Be home early, Warren.
+I have something particular to say to you."
+
+Warren nodded, and his father passed out of the house, not at all
+pleased with the interview between himself and the backwoodsman.
+
+Nothing disconcerts scheming men more than blunt honesty.
+
+As soon as the governor was gone, Carrol commenced humming a song.  His
+new visitor waited for several moments before speaking to him.
+
+"How is Nelatu?" he at length asked.  "Will he be strong enough to
+travel to-morrow?"
+
+"Not quite," said Carrol, pausing in the chorus part of his ditty; "he'd
+best remain here till his people come.  They won't be long now, and the
+stay will give him time to get right smart."
+
+"What was it that vexed my father, Cris?"
+
+"Well, I don't know 'cept he's took somethin' that's disagreed with him.
+He _do_ seem riled considerable."
+
+"But, Cris, are you really off to-morrow?"
+
+"By sunrise," answered Carrol.
+
+"Which way are you going?"
+
+Cris looked slily at his questioner before answering.
+
+"I don't know for sure whether it'll be along the bay, or across the big
+swamp.  The deer are gettin' scarce near the settlement, and I have to
+go further to find 'em.  That's all along of civilisation."
+
+"If you go by the swamp you might do me a service," said Warren.
+
+"Might I?"  Then, after a thoughtful pause, the back woodsman
+continued--"Well, you see, Warren, it won't be by the swamp.  I've made
+my mind up now, and I'm goin' along the bay."
+
+Warren said, "All right; no matter."
+
+Then, with a word of explanation, parted from Cris, and proceeded to
+find Nelatu.
+
+As soon as he was out of sight, Carrol's behaviour would have furnished
+a comic artist a capital subject for a sketch.  He chuckled, winked his
+eyes, wagged his head, rubbed his hands, and seemed to shake all over
+with suppressed merriment.
+
+"A pair of the artfullest cusses I ever comed across.  Darn my pictur if
+the young 'un ain't most too good.  War I goin' by the swamp, 'cos then
+I might do him a service?  No, no, Mister Warren, this coon ain't to be
+made a cat's paw of by you nor your father neyther.  I ain't a goin' to
+mix myself up in either of your scrapes, leastways, not if I knows it;
+nor Nelatu shan't if I can help it.  I don't let him stir till his
+fellow Injuns come, and, may-be, that'll keep him out o' trouble.  No,
+Master Warren, you must do yur own dirty work, and so must your father.
+Cris Carrol shan't help either o' you in that.  If the young 'un don't
+mind what he's heard, altho' he made b'lieve he didn't, and his father
+don't mind what I told him, there'll be worse come of it."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIX.
+
+CROOKLEG.
+
+When young Rody took his departure from Carrol's hut, he went off in no
+very enviable mood.
+
+His interview with Nelatu, although of the briefest, had been as
+unproductive of results as that with the blunt old backwoodsman.
+
+The plain speaking indulged in by Carrol, and which he had overheard
+before entering the cabin, had annoyed him, while the oracular manner
+adopted by Cris in no way assuaged the feeling.
+
+The fact of the matter is that the old hunter had made a clear guess at
+the truth.
+
+Warren had a passion for Sansuta, the daughter of Oluski.
+
+Not a manly, loving passion, though.
+
+Her beauty had cast a spell upon him.  Had his soul been pure, the spell
+would have worked its own cure.  Out of the magic of her very simplicity
+would have arisen chaste love.
+
+But his heart was wicked, and its growth weeds.
+
+Hitherto the difference of race had shielded from harm the object of his
+admiration.  He would have been ashamed to avow it in an honest way.
+
+Secretly, therefore, he had forged a false friendship for her brother,
+as a mask to conceal his base treachery.
+
+In the incident with which our tale opens, he had found a ready means of
+advancing his own interests by more closely cementing Nelatu's simple
+friendship, and moulding it to his will.
+
+We have said that Red Wolf, the would-be assassin, fell by the bullet of
+his rifle.
+
+With his hand upon the trigger, and in the very act of sending this
+wretch to his account, a thought had flashed across young Rody's mind,
+which made his aim more certain.
+
+Let us explain.
+
+Nelatu said that Red Wolf had spoken wicked words of Sansuta and of
+Warren.
+
+The very conjunction of their names supplied the calumny.
+
+Nelatu spoke truly; but what he did not know was, that the wretch who
+paid the forfeit of his life for his foul speech was only the dupe of
+Nelatu's own friend, Warren Rody.
+
+Red Wolf, an idle, drunken scamp, had been a fit instrument in Rody's
+hands to be employed as a messenger between him and the Indian girl.
+
+For these services Red Wolf received repeated compensation in gold.
+
+But the old story of the bad master becoming discontented with a bad
+servant was true in this case.
+
+Warren was afraid that Red Wolf would, in one of his drunken orgies,
+talk too much, and betray the secret with which he had entrusted him.
+
+So far, he was right; for it was whilst endeavouring to warn Nelatu of
+his sister's danger that Red Wolf made use of language about the girl.
+
+He had reviled Nelatu's sister while traducing his friend.
+
+The issue is already known.
+
+Wicked were Warren's thoughts as he stood, rifle in hand, watching the
+two.
+
+If Red Wolf--and he recognised him at once--were removed in the very act
+of killing Nelatu, a dangerous tongue would be for ever silenced, while
+Nelatu's friendship would be further secured, and Sansuta eventually
+become his.
+
+The decision was taken, the bullet sent through Red Wolf's brain, and
+Warren Rody accomplished a part of his design.
+
+Having succeeded so far, it was terribly mortifying to find that one
+clear-sighted individual had penetrated his schemes, and, without
+appearing to do so, had placed a restraint upon the otherwise warm sense
+of gratitude with which Nelatu regarded him.
+
+All this Cris Carrol had done, and therefore Warren Rody was angry with
+him.
+
+He left the cabin vowing vengeance upon Carrol, and casting about for
+the means to accomplish it.
+
+He had not long to wait, or far to seek.
+
+At the end of the bye-road upon which the backwoodsman's dwelling stood,
+he encountered the very tool suitable for his purpose.
+
+It was in the person of a negro, with a skin black as Erebus, who was
+seen perched upon the top of a tall fence.
+
+He was odd enough looking to attract the attention of the most careless
+traveller.
+
+His head, denuded of the old ragged piece of felt he called hat, was
+unusually large, and covered with an enormous shock of tightly-curling
+wool.
+
+This did not, however, conceal the apeish form of the skull, that bore a
+strong resemblance to that of a chimpanzee.
+
+Rolling and sparkling in a field of white, were eyes preternaturally
+large, and wickedly expressive, above a nose and mouth of the strongest
+African type.
+
+His arms were ludicrously long, and seemed by their unusual proportions
+to make up for the shortness, and impish form of the body.
+
+He was whistling in a discordant strain some wild melody, and kicking
+his heels about like one possessed.
+
+As Warren Rody approached, he paused in his ear-splitting music, and
+leaped nimbly from his perch, whilst flourishing his tattered felt in a
+sort of salutation.
+
+It might have been observed that he was lame, and the few halting steps
+he took imparted a droll, hobbling motion to his diminutive body.
+
+His dress was a curious warp of rags--woven, as it were--upon a still
+more ragged woof.
+
+They were held together more by sympathy than cohesion.
+
+In his right hand was a stout gnarled stick, with which he assisted
+himself in his frog-like progress.
+
+At sight of young Rody, the huge mouth of this uncouth creature seemed
+to open from ear to ear.
+
+"Ha, ha!  Who, whoo!  Gor bress me, if it ain't Massa Warren hisself dat
+I see!  My stars, massa, but dis ole man am glad to see ye, dat he is!"
+
+Such was his salutation.
+
+The young man came to a stop, and surveyed the negro with a smile.
+
+"Well, Crookleg, what do you want with me, you old fiend?"
+
+"Ha, ha!  Ho, ho!  Bress him, what a brave young gen'lman it is!  How
+han'som'--jess like a pictur'.  What do the ole fien' want?  Why he want
+a good deal, massa, good deal."
+
+"Are you out of work again?"
+
+"Ha, ha, ain't done a bressed stroke of work, massa, for more nor two
+week!  Ain't, 'pon dis old nigger's solemn word!  Ain't had it, massa,
+to do.  Poor Crookleg am most used up, sa, most used up."
+
+As if to prove his last assertion the hideous wretch cut a high caper
+into the air, and settled down again in a grotesque attitude.
+
+Young Rody laughed heartily at this feat, slapped his riding-whip
+roughfully across the negro's back, pitched a piece of silver to him,
+and passed on.
+
+Whilst Crookleg stopped to pick up the coin he glanced after him under
+his arm, and saw, with some surprise, that the youth had paused at a few
+paces distance as if in thought.
+
+After a time the latter faced round and came back along the road.
+
+"By the way, Crookleg," said he, "come up to the house, my sister may
+have something to give you."
+
+"Ha, ha! he, he!  Miss Alice, bress her, so she may, massa!  I'll come,
+sartin; dis old nigger's always glad to get what he can from Miss
+Alice."
+
+"And," continued Rody, "ask for me when you come.  I may find something
+for you to do that'll help you along a little."
+
+Not staying to hear the voluble expressions of gratitude with which
+Crookleg overwhelmed him, Warren strode on, and was soon lost to sight.
+
+The moment of his disappearance the darkey perpetrated another aerial
+leap, and then hobbled off in a direction opposite to that pursued by
+the governor's son.
+
+He could be heard muttering as he went--
+
+"Wants to see dis chile, does he?  Why, dat looks good for de old
+nigger; and, who knows, but what de long time am a coming to an end, and
+all dis old nigger's work is gwine to be done for him by odder folk.
+He, he! dat would make dis chile bust a laffin!  He, he, he!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN.
+
+THE TWO CHIEFS.
+
+Our story now takes us fifty miles inland from Tampa Bay.
+
+The spot on the edge of an everglade.
+
+The hour noon.
+
+The dramatis personae two Indians.
+
+One an old man, the other in the prime of life.
+
+The first white-headed, wrinkled, and with traces of a life spent in
+action.
+
+He presented an appearance at once striking and picturesque as he stood
+beneath the shade of a tall palm tree.
+
+His dress was half Indian, half hunter.
+
+A buckskin shirt, leggings, and moccasins richly worked with beads; a
+wampum belt crossed his shoulder; a scarlet blanket hung at his back,
+its folds displaying a figure which, in its youth, must have been
+superb.
+
+It still showed, in the broad chest and powerful limbs, almost its
+pristine strength.
+
+Upon his head he wore a band of bead-work, in which were stuck three
+wing feathers of the war-eagle.
+
+His face was full of dignity and calm repose.
+
+It was Oluski, the Seminole chief.
+
+His companion was no less remarkable.
+
+As he lay stretched upon the ground, leaning on one elbow, his face
+upturned towards that of the old man, a striking contrast was presented.
+
+Like Oluski, his dress was also half Indian, half hunter, but more
+richly ornamented with bead-work, whilst a certain careful disposition
+of the attire, seemed not inappropriate to his youth and bearing.
+
+It was, however, in his features that the difference was chiefly
+apparent.
+
+In the attitude he had assumed, a ray of sunshine piercing a break
+between the trees, illumined his countenance.
+
+Instead of the coppery colour of the Indian, his skin was of a rich
+olive, an unmistakeable sign that white blood flowed in his veins.
+
+He was remarkably handsome.  His features were regular, well defined,
+and admirably chiselled.  His eyes were large and lustrous, overarched
+by a forehead that denoted the possession of intellect.
+
+Like the old man, he wore a plume of eagle's feathers on his head, as
+also a wampum belt; but in lieu of a blanket, a robe made of skin of the
+spotted lynx was thrown over his shoulders.
+
+Oluski was the first to speak.
+
+"Must Wacora depart to-day?" he asked.
+
+"At sunset I must leave you, uncle," replied the youth, who was his
+nephew, already spoken of as Wacora.
+
+"And when do you return?"
+
+"Not till you come back from Tampa Bay.  I have still much to do.  My
+father's death has still placed me in a position of trust, and I must
+not neglect its duties."
+
+"I and my tribe depart from this place in seven days."
+
+"And Nelatu, where is he?" asked Wacora.
+
+"I expected him ere this.  He and Red Wolf went away together."
+
+Oluski was ignorant of what had happened.
+
+"They went upon a hunting excursion, and if not able to return in time,
+were to go on to the bay, and there await our coming."
+
+"You still make your summer encampment upon the hill.  I have not seen
+it since I was a boy.  It is a shame, too, since out people are buried
+there."
+
+"Yes; and, therefore, it is dear to you as to me."
+
+"And yet the whites have a settlement near it.  It was your gift to
+them, uncle, I remember that."
+
+Wacora said this with an accent that sounded almost sneering.
+
+The old chief answered warmly.
+
+"Well, I owed their chief a debt of gratitude, I paid it.  He is my
+friend."
+
+"_Friend_!" said Wacora, with a bitter smile; "since when has the
+pale-face been a friend to the red man?"
+
+"Still unjust, Wacora.  I thought you had changed.  The foolish
+sentiments of youth should give place to the wisdom of age."
+
+Oluski's eye brightened as he spoke.  His heart swelled with noble
+feelings.
+
+"I do not, will not, trust in the white man!" answered the young chief.
+"What has he done to our race that we should believe in him?  Look at
+his acts and then trust him if you can.  Where are the Mohawks, the
+Shawnees, the Delawares, and the Narragansets?  How has the white man
+kept faith with them?"
+
+"All white men are not alike," responded Oluski.  "A pale-face
+befriended me when I required aid.  The deed always weighs against the
+word.  I could not be ungrateful."
+
+"Well, Oluski's gratitude has been proved," returned Wacora.  "But let
+him beware of those on whom it has been bestowed."
+
+The old chief did not answer, but stood in an attitude of thought.
+
+Ideas, slumbering till now, were awakened by Wacora's words.  An unknown
+feeling appeared to gain possession of him.
+
+So contagious is mistrust.
+
+The nephew, too, seemed lost in thought.  Still lying upon the ground he
+idly plucked the petals of a flower growing by his side.
+
+The conversation was at length resumed by his uncle.
+
+"I have nothing to charge the white chief with or his people.  Our tribe
+yearly visits the place.  We are welcomed on arrival, respected during
+our stay, and unmolested at leaving.  No, Wacora, these white men are
+not like others."
+
+"Uncle, all white men are the same.  They make their homes in our land.
+When space is needed, the Indian must yield to them.  What faith or
+friendship can exist where there is no equality?  Do not the Seminoles
+suffer at this very moment from the white man's ambition?  Are not their
+hunting grounds profaned by his presence--their towns pillaged for his
+fancied wrongs?  Your _friend_ is a white man, and, therefore the enemy
+of your race."
+
+Wacora spoke passionately.
+
+The Indian is not always a savage.  The reverse is often the case.  In
+every tribe there are men of education, of quick intelligence, and with
+a high sense of right.
+
+Both Oluski and Wacora were superior men, in the sense that education
+and natural intelligence gave the stamp of superiority over ignorance
+and superstition.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHT.
+
+SANSUTA.
+
+As we have said, Wacora had white blood in his veins.
+
+His mother was a Spaniard, the daughter of a planter, who had lived near
+the town of Saint Augustine.
+
+Almost a child at the time of her capture, she eventually forgot her own
+kindred, and became devoted to the chief who had been her captor.
+
+It ended in her becoming his wife, and the mother of Wacora.
+
+Albeit that in Wacora's veins white blood flowed, his soul was Indian,
+and he loved his father's people as if he had been of their purest
+blood.
+
+He was a patriot of the most enthusiastic stamp.
+
+His judgment, clear in most things, was clouded in estimating the
+qualities of the white race, simply because he had seen the worst phases
+of their character, its cupidity and selfishness.
+
+Oluski would have answered his companion's address, but the same train
+of disagreeable thought that had entered his mind at the first part of
+Wacora's speech held him silent.
+
+Wacora proceeded.
+
+"Enough, uncle.  I did not intend to trouble you with my feelings; I
+meant only to warn you against danger, for danger exists in all dealings
+with the pale-faces.  They, as ourselves, are true to their instincts,
+and those instincts blind them to justice.  Your friend, the White
+Chief, may be all you think of him.  If so, he will rather admire your
+caution than blame you for mistrust; natural, because not causeless."
+
+Whatever reply Oluski intended, was postponed by the arrival of a third
+person, at whose coming Wacora sprang from the ground with a gesture of
+surprise and admiration.
+
+The new comer was an Indian maiden.  A perfect wood nymph.
+
+She was a girl of slight stature, beautifully rounded limbs, with hands
+and feet unusually small.
+
+Her dress was simplicity itself; yet so gracefully worn that it seemed
+the result of laboured art.
+
+A tunic of bright-coloured cloth, clasped round her neck by a silver
+brooch, descended to her ankles, while around her waist was twisted a
+scarf of many colours; over her shoulders fell a bright cloth mantle,
+bordered with shells worked into delicate patterns; upon her head was a
+bead-work cap, trimmed with the plumes of the white eagle, like a fringe
+of newly-fallen snow; her wrists were encircled with bead bracelets,
+whilst embroidered mocassins covered her small feet.
+
+She smilingly approached Oluski, and nestled close to the old chief.
+
+Wacora seemed puzzled by the fair presence.
+
+"I had forgotten," said Oluski, "that you are strangers to each other.
+Sansuta, your cousin Wacora stands before you."
+
+Sansuta--for she it was--smiled upon the young Indian.
+
+He did not approach the spot where father and daughter stood.
+
+His impassioned eloquence had vanished.
+
+He could scarce find words for the simplest salutation.
+
+Oluski, perceiving his bashfulness, hastened to his relief.
+
+"Sansuta has been upon a visit, and has only now returned.  It is many
+years since you have seen her, Wacora.  You did not expect her to have
+grown so tall?"
+
+Wacora finished the sentence.
+
+"Nor so beautiful!" he said.
+
+Sansuta cast down her eyes.
+
+"No praise like that should reach an Indian maiden's ear," said Oluski,
+with a smile; "nevertheless, Sansuta is as the Great Spirit has made
+her, that is sufficient."
+
+The girl did not seem to share her father's sentiments; a slight pout of
+her beautiful lips implied that the compliment was by no means
+unpleasant.
+
+Wacora was again dumb, as if half regretting what he had said.
+
+Such is the power that beauty exercises over bravery.
+
+The young Indian warrior actually blushed at his boldness.
+
+"But what brings you here, Sansuta?" asked her father.  "Did you not
+know that your cousin and myself were in council?"
+
+The pretty Sansuta had recovered her composure.
+
+The pout had disappeared from her lips, which, opening to answer her
+father's question, revealed two rows of teeth of a dazzling whiteness.
+
+"I am here to bid you both to the evening meal," she said.
+
+Her voice, melodious and soft, struck upon Wacora's ear like the music
+of the mocking-bird.
+
+The charm was complete.
+
+Forgetful of his late conversation, forgetful for a time of his thoughts
+and aspirations, oblivious of his enthusiasm, he stood a very child,
+eagerly watching her and listening for those tones again.
+
+It was Oluski, however, who spoke.
+
+"Come, Wacora, let us go with her."
+
+The old chief strode away from the spot, Sansuta by his side.
+
+Wacora followed, with a new feeling in his heart.
+
+It was love!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINE.
+
+THE INDIAN VILLAGE.
+
+A week later the table top of the hill over-looking the settlement
+presented a changed picture.
+
+It was one of active life.
+
+The naked poles, formerly standing there, had disappeared, and
+comfortable Indian dwellings--wigwams--were in their place.
+
+At the doors of several were planted lances and spears, with plumes and
+pennons depending from them.
+
+These were the residences of the chiefs.
+
+In the centre of the group was a large building, which was carefully,
+almost elaborately constructed, and which far o'ertopped over the
+others.
+
+It was the council house of the tribe.
+
+Around the doors of their respective dwellings, the owners might be seen
+engaged in every variety of employment or peaceful idleness.  Children
+frolicked in the presence of their parents, and dusky maidens, in twos
+and threes, loitered up and down the main street or avenue.
+
+At one of the doors an interesting group seemed rapt in attention at the
+recital of a story that was being told by an aged chief.
+
+The chief was Oluski, and among the individuals around was his daughter,
+Sansuta.
+
+The others were his kindred.
+
+They had assembled, as was their usual evening custom, in front of his
+wigwam, to listen to tales of virtue or valour; of deeds done by their
+ancestors in the days of the early Spanish settlers.
+
+The Indians are admirable listeners, and, in the easy natural attitudes
+into which they fell as they lent forward to catch Oluski's words, they
+formed a charming tableau.
+
+The venerable chief, with dignified action, measured speech, and great
+skill in modulating his voice, held their attention as much by the
+manner as the matter of his narrative.
+
+As the incident he was relating developed pathos, chivalry, horror or
+revenge, so did his audience yield themselves to its influences.  By
+turns they lowered their eyes, shuddered, stared wildly around with knit
+brows and clenched hands.
+
+Like all people constantly communing with nature, they were easily moved
+to joy or sorrow; and not civilised enough to make any attempt at
+concealing it.
+
+As Oluski sat in their midst, the observed of all observers, he looked
+the picture of a patriarch.
+
+The time and piece were both in harmony with the subject.
+
+Oluski's story drew to a close.  His hero had achieved his triumph.  The
+distressed Seminole maiden was rescued, and joy and union wound up the
+tale, which had for more than an hour held his listeners enthralled.
+
+"So now, children, away!  The sun is sinking in the west; the hour of
+council is at hand, and I must leave you.  Return to-morrow, and I will
+relate to you some other episode in the history of our tribe."
+
+The young people rose at the chief's bidding, and with "thanks" and
+"good nights," prepared to depart; Sansuta among the rest.
+
+"Where are you going child?" asked her father.
+
+"Only to the spring, father.  I shall be back soon."
+
+As the girl said this, she turned, as if wishing to avoid her father's
+gaze.  The other people had all departed.
+
+"Well," said the old man, after a pause, "do not forget to return soon.
+I would not have you abroad after nightfall."
+
+She murmured a few words, and sauntered away from the spot.
+
+Oluski did not immediately depart, but stood leaning against the spear
+that stood up in front of his dwelling.
+
+The old man's eyes were filled with tears, while a hand was laid upon
+his heart.
+
+"Poor girl," he reflected, as he watched her form disappearing in the
+fast darkening twilight; "she never knew her mother.  I sometimes think
+I have been but a poor guardian of Sansuta's steps.  But the Great
+Spirit knows I have tried to do my duty."
+
+Sighing heavily, he brushed the tears from his eyes, and strode off to
+the council house.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TEN.
+
+AN APPOINTMENT KEPT BY DEPUTY.
+
+Let us follow the steps of Sansuta.
+
+Once out of sight, and conscious that she had eluded her father's
+observation, she quickened her steps, not in the direction of the
+spring, but towards a thick clump of live oaks which grew at the foot of
+the hill.
+
+As she approached the spot, her pace gradually became slower, until she
+at length came to a stop.
+
+As she paused, a shiver ran through her frame.
+
+She was evidently in doubt as to the propriety of what she was doing.
+
+The sun had sunk below the horizon, and darkness was rapidly falling
+over the landscape.
+
+A distant murmuring alone gave token of the proximity of the Indian
+village upon the hill.
+
+After a few moments, and while Sansuta still stood beside the grove,
+these sounds ceased, and perfect silence reigned around the spot.
+
+Presently a cuckoo's note was heard--followed by another nearer and
+louder--that in its turn succeeded by three others.
+
+Whilst the echo of the last still vibrated on the evening air, the
+maiden was startled by a sudden apparition.
+
+It sprang into view at her very feet, as if the ground had opened
+suddenly to give it passage.
+
+When the girl regained courage sufficient to look upon it, her fears
+were in no way lessened.
+
+Standing in a grotesque attitude, she beheld a negro, with arms
+enveloped in a ragged garment, moving about like the sails of a
+windmill, whilst a low chuckle proceeded from his huge mouth.
+
+"He! ho! ho! brest if de ole nigga didn't skear de galumpious Injun.
+He! he! he! 'gorry if de Injun beauty ain't turn white at de show of dis
+chile!"
+
+It was Crookleg who spoke.
+
+He seemed to enjoy the fright he had given the maiden; for, after having
+ceased to speak, his gurgling cachinnation was continued.
+
+It was some time before Sansuta recovered presence of mind sufficient to
+speak to the black deformity before her.
+
+"What do you want?" was all she could gasp.
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!  It warn't dis ugly ole nigga what the big chief's chile
+'pected to meet--war it?  No, I know it warn't.  But don't be skeared,
+ole Crookleg won't hurt ye.  He's as innercent as a angel.  He! he! he!
+as a angel."
+
+Here another caper, similar to the one with which he had introduced
+himself, placed him in a still more impish attitude.
+
+The Indian girl had by this recovered from her first surprise, seeing
+that some attributes of humanity appertained to her strange
+interlocutor.
+
+"Again, what do you want?  Let me pass.  I must return to the village."
+
+"Gorry, an it arn't Crookleg dat will hinder you," the negro answered,
+standing directly in her path.  "He only want say a word to you--dat is
+if you is de beautiful Sansuta, de darter of de chief?"
+
+"I am the chief's daughter; that is my name.  I am Sansuta!"
+
+"Den de young gen'l'm'n tole dis old darkey true wen he say I find you
+down by de live-oak grove at sunset--he told de old nigga true."
+
+A blush overspread the girl's face as Crookleg spoke.  She did not
+answer him.
+
+"He said to me," continued the negro, "dat I were to tell de _lady_"
+(here he chuckled), "dat he de gen'l'm' couldn' come to meet her
+to-night, on accoun' o' de ole man his bossy wot hab gib him somethin'
+'tickler to do.  He send ole Crookleg to tell her dat, and gib her
+sometin' what I've got hyar in my pocket, he! he! he!"
+
+Saying these words, the monster made a series of movements, having in
+view the discovery of his pocket.
+
+After a most elaborate and vigorous search for its aperture among the
+multitudinous rags, he succeeded in finding it.  Then, plunging his long
+right arm therein up to the elbow, he drew forth a small parcel wrapped
+in white paper, and tied with a string of dazzling beads.
+
+With another acrobatic bound, he handed it to the trembling girl.
+
+"Dere it am, safe and soun'.  Dis ole nigga nebba lose nuffin and offen
+find a good deal.  Dat, says de gen'l'm', is for de most lubbly of her
+seek, de Missy Sansuta."
+
+The tender look accompanying this speech was something hideous to
+behold.
+
+Sansuta hesitated before taking the parcel from him, as if in doubt
+whether she should not decline it.
+
+"Da! take it," urged he; "'tain't nuffin as'll go off and hurt ye; dis
+nigga kin swar to dat!"
+
+Not so much this friendly assurance as a resolution the girl had come
+to, decided her.
+
+She stretched forth her hand and took the package.
+
+This done, she essayed once more to move past the negro in order to
+return to the hill.
+
+Crookleg, however, still blocking up the path, made no movement to give
+way to her.
+
+He had evidently something more to say.
+
+"Lookee hyar," he continued, "I war bid to tell the lubbly Injun lady
+that the gen'l'm'n wud be at dis berry spot to-morrow mornin' early to
+meet her, and I war 'tickler told say dat it war private, and not to be
+told no 'quisitive folks wat might want to know.  Now I think," here
+Crookleg took off his tattered hat and scratched his wool.  "Yes! dats
+all dis nigga war tole to say--yes, dats all."
+
+Without waiting for a reply, the monstrosity made a pirouette, then a
+bound, and disappeared so suddenly, that he was gone before Sansuta
+could recover from her surprise.
+
+Once assured that she was alone, the maiden hastened to untie the
+bead-string around the package, and lay bare its contents.
+
+Her glance fell upon a pair of showy ear-rings, and affixed to them a
+small slip of paper.
+
+Though but an Indian maiden, the chief's daughter had learnt to read.
+
+By the last glimpse of departing twilight she read what was written on
+the paper.
+
+There were but two words--
+
+"From Warren."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVEN.
+
+THE COUNCIL.
+
+Oluski's entrance into the council-house was the signal for all eyes to
+turn towards him.
+
+Slowly and with dignity he traversed the space between the door and the
+seat reserved for him, at the upper end of the hall.
+
+Once there he turned around, bowed gravely to the assembled warriors,
+and then took his seat.
+
+Pipes were now lighted, and gourds filled with honey and water handed
+around.
+
+Oluski declined the latter, but lighted one of the pipes, and for some
+time watched, as if in reverie, the circling of the smoke.
+
+The silence that ensued upon the old chief's entrance continued for
+several minutes.  At length a young warrior, opposite to him, rose and
+spoke--
+
+"Will our chief tell his brothers why they are called together, and what
+is it that makes him thoughtful and silent?  We will hear and advise--
+let Oluski speak!"
+
+After this brief address, the young man resumed his seat, while those
+around the circle murmured their assent to what he had said.
+
+Thus solicited, Oluski arose, and spoke as follows:--
+
+"It is not unknown to many of our warriors now present that I was
+deputed by the elder brothers and themselves many years since to go to
+the pale-faces in Georgia to settle some old disputes about lands sold
+by our people to them, and about which wicked men of both races had
+caused quarrels and bloodshed.  I departed on my errand, went to the
+great town where their council-house stands, spoke truth, and made new
+treaties with them.  All this I did, and our people were pleased!"
+
+A chorus of voices ratified the chief's statement.
+
+"It may be remembered that I made new friends with some of the
+pale-faces, and concluded treaties, founded on justice, which gave to
+our people property they needed in exchange for lands which we did not
+require."
+
+Renewed signals of assent.
+
+"To one pale-face more than to others I was under bonds of gratitude.
+He did me great service when I required it, and I promised to repay him.
+An Indian chief never breaks his word.  I gave to that man some of the
+lands left to me by my fathers.  These are the lands upon which the
+white settlement now stands.  The pale-face I speak of was Elias Rody!"
+
+The voices of the assembled warriors were silent.  An eager look of
+expectancy was all the answer Oluski received at mention of Rody's name.
+
+The old chief continued.
+
+"To-day Elias Rody came here and talked with me.  He told me that the
+hour had arrived when I could do him a great service, and again prove
+myself grateful for the aid he had afforded me.  I told him to speak
+out.  He did so.  I listened.  He said the colony he had founded was
+prosperous, but there was one thing he still desired; and that was the
+favour he came to ask.  Twice before he had spoken of it.  This time he
+required a final answer.  His demand was more than I could of myself
+grant.  I told him so.  For this reason have I called you into council.
+I will lay his wish before you.  It is for you to decide."
+
+Oluski paused to give opportunity for any one who chose to make a
+remark.
+
+None was made, but the listeners looked around them, as if trying to
+read each other's thoughts.
+
+The chief proceeded.
+
+"What the white man wants is to buy from us this hill upon which our
+habitations are built."
+
+A chorus of angry, dissentient voices greeted the proposal.
+
+"Hear me out," continued Oluski, "and then decide."
+
+Silence ensued as sudden as the noisy interruption.
+
+"The white chief offered me one hundred rifles, two hundred square
+Mackinaw blankets, five kegs of gunpowder, fifteen bales of cloth and
+one hundred shot belts, besides beads, knives, and small articles.  For
+this he desires to have possession of the hill as far as the borders of
+the settlement, and the strip of land lying along the shore of the bay.
+
+"I have told you this with no remark of my own to influence your
+decision.  To you, brothers, I leave it, whatever it may be Oluski will
+abide by it."
+
+Saying this, he sat down.
+
+The young warrior who had already spoken, once more rose to his feet and
+addressed himself to his chief.
+
+"Why does Oluski ask us to decide?  The land is his, not ours."
+
+Without rising the chief replied to the question.  His voice was sad and
+subdued, as though he were speaking under compulsion.
+
+"I have asked you, my sons," said he, "for good reason.  Although the
+land is my own, the graveyard of our ancestors, which adjoins the
+property, belongs not only to the whole tribe, but to the children of
+the tribe for ever!"
+
+A silence, such as precedes a storm fell upon the assembly.
+
+Then every voice within the council chamber was simultaneously raised in
+loud protestations, and had Elias Rody seen the flashing eyes and angry
+gestures, or heard the fierce invective hurled back to his proposal, he
+would have hesitated to renew it.
+
+Amidst the wild tumult Oluski sate, with head bowed upon his breast, a
+feeling of sorrow in his heart.
+
+The angry debate that succeeded did not last long; it was but the
+ebullition of a common sentiment, to which the expression by one voice
+was alone wanting.
+
+It found it in the same youthful warrior who had spoken before.
+
+The feelings of the warriors being known, he, as well as any other, good
+give them voice.
+
+"The chosen of the tribe have decided," said he, amidst perfect silence;
+"I will proclaim their answer."
+
+"Do so," Oluski said, simply raising his head.
+
+"They despise the white chief's bribe, offered for the bones of our
+ancestors.  They bid me ask Oluski what answer he intends making to the
+pale-face."
+
+The old chief rose hastily to his feet, his form and eyes dilated.
+
+Glancing proudly around the assembly, he cried out, in a clear ringing
+voice.
+
+"Oluski's answer is written here."
+
+As he said this, he struck his spread palm upon his breast.
+
+"When the white chief would have it, it shall be No!"
+
+A cry of approbation from every warrior present greeted this patriotic
+speech.
+
+Hastening forward, they pressed around their chief with ejaculations of
+joy.
+
+The aged patriarch felt his blood freshly warmed within his veins--he
+was young again!
+
+In a few moments the excitement subsided, and the warriors, returning
+from the council-house, moved off towards their respective dwellings.
+
+Oluski was the last to emerge from the council chamber.
+
+As he stepped across the threshold, the fire that animated him seemed to
+have become suddenly extinguished.
+
+His form was bent, his steps tottering and listless.
+
+As he looked down the hill, he caught a glimpse of the white settlement,
+with its window-lights twinkling through the darkness.
+
+One, more brilliant than the rest, attracted his attention.
+
+It was the house of Elias Rody.
+
+"I fear," said the old chief, in a dreary voice, "my gift will prove
+fatal alike to him and me.  When ambition enters the heart, honour and
+justice find no home therein.  Our people cannot know that man in the
+past; they must judge him by his present.  I would be generous--the
+Great Spirit knows that--but I must also be just.  If I have raised
+angry feelings at this council, I have nothing to charge myself with; I
+did but my duty.  May the white chief's heart be turned from the
+covetous thoughts which fill it!  Great Spirit, hear my prayer!"
+
+With a natural and beautiful action, the aged Indian raised his hands in
+supplication to that Power alike cognisant of the thoughts of white and
+red.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELVE.
+
+THE SITUATION.
+
+Several days had elapsed since the meeting in the council-house.
+
+The answer of the Seminole warriors had been conveyed to the white
+governor by Oluski himself.
+
+The old chief couched the decision in kindly words mingled with regrets.
+
+Elias Rody was wonderfully self-possessed.
+
+He smiled, shrugged his shoulders, grasped the Seminole's hand, and with
+a wave of his own seemed to dismiss the subject from his thoughts.
+
+Nay, more, he presented the old warrior with a beautifully inlaid rifle,
+a bale of broad-cloth, and a keg of powder.
+
+"Come, come," said he speaking in the friendliest tone, "don't let a
+mere whim of mine affect such a friendship as ours.  You _must_ accept
+these things--mere trifles.  Your taking them will prove that you
+harbour no unkindness towards me or mine."
+
+Thus pressed, Oluski accepted the presents.
+
+The governor smiled covertly as the old chief departed.
+
+Nelatu had recovered from his wound; he daily spent hours in company
+with Warren, and there was no lack of diversion for the white youth or
+his red-skinned companion.
+
+Their canoe darted through the blue waters of the bay, or stole dreamily
+along the river's current.
+
+Their rifles brought down the wild fowl upon the sea, or the quail and
+partridge upon the land.
+
+Their fishing-rods and spears furnished many a dainty dish.
+
+Sometimes, going farther afield, they would bring home a deer, or a
+brace or two of wild turkeys--or, bent on destruction, would penetrate
+some dark lagoon and slay the hideous alligator.
+
+The opportunities which these pursuits presented were constantly
+improved by Warren.
+
+He moulded his conduct and expressions to suit the simple faith and
+understanding of his companion.
+
+He concealed beneath a considerate kindness the dark thoughts that were
+brooding in his bosom, and was the very semblance of what he professed
+to be--a friend.
+
+Nelatu, generous and confiding, was flattered and charmed by his
+condescension; with the simple faith of a child he trusted his white
+associate.
+
+"Ah, Nelatu," would the latter say, "if I had only the power to do what
+I wish, I would prove myself a true friend to the Indians.  Our race are
+afraid to show real sympathy with them on account of old and stupid
+prejudices.  Wait until I am in a position to prove my words, and you
+will see what I will do.  Why, even now, I'd rather sit near you
+fishing, or tramp with you across the country on a hunting excursion,
+than spend my time amongst my own people, who cannot understand either
+me or my ways."
+
+In a thousand designing ways he impressed himself on Nelatu's mind as a
+chivalrous, self-sacrificing fellow, worthy the love of any maiden.
+Then, adroitly singing soft praises of Sansuta to the brother's pleased
+ear, he insured in him a faithful ally and warm panegyrist.
+
+Sansuta, pleased with an admiration which she never paused to question,
+blushed at her brother's report of Warren's good qualities.
+
+Many articles of adornment had come into her hands, and were kept from
+her father's sight.
+
+She dared not wear them, but in secret gloated over their possession as
+over the feeling which had prompted the gift.
+
+Sansuta, it will be seen, was a coquette, though one through vanity, not
+vice.
+
+She was innocent as a child, but inordinately vain.
+
+She had grown up without a mother's care; had been so much thrown upon
+her own resources; that all her faults were those of an untrained
+nature.
+
+Her heart was warm, her affection for her father and brother deep and
+true; but she was too prone to turn from the bright side of life, and
+tremble at anything with the appearance of dulness.
+
+Differently placed, this Indian maid might have become a heroine.  As it
+was she was nothing but a frivolous child.
+
+With a generous man, her defenceless position would have ensured her
+safety.
+
+Not thus with Warren Rody.
+
+The son did not belie his father's nature.
+
+Crookleg had become useful to him in his scheme.  This hideous creature
+proved far more subservient and trustworthy than the defunct Red Wolf,
+for he was all obsequious obedience.
+
+True, he sometimes glanced askance with an ugly look bent upon his young
+master, but the look vanished in a hideous grin whenever the latter
+turned towards him.
+
+What dark mystery lay hidden in the negro's mind, no one white knew, but
+all, by a common impulse, gave way to him as he passed.  Children ran
+shrieking, and hid their faces in their mother's aprons; the boys paused
+suddenly in their play as he hobbled by, while the old gossips of both
+sexes shook their heads and thought of the devil as he approached them!
+
+He seemed only flattered by these signs of detestation, and chuckled
+with glee at the aversion he inspired.
+
+The Indians, meanwhile, pursued their usual avocations.
+
+The waters of Tampa Bay were dotted with their canoes.  Troops of their
+children frolicked on the plateau, or clucked the wild flowers that grew
+along the sloping sides of the hill.
+
+The women of the tribe followed their domestic duties, and the whole
+scene around the wigwams was one of tranquil contentment.
+
+The white settlers were not idle neither.  The fields were swelling with
+crops, which the planters had commenced to gather in.  A goodly store of
+merchandise was collected upon the wharf, and several schooners had come
+to an anchor in the bay.
+
+Peace and plenty abounded in the settlement.
+
+But, as before the storm a small, dark cloud specks the bright sky,
+gathering as it grows, so was there a cloud, too small for human view,
+drifting over this peaceful scene which should carry death and
+destruction in its wake.
+
+Slowly and surely it was coming!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
+
+A SUBTERRANEAN SNARE.
+
+A morning in the forest.
+
+What beauty!  What delight!
+
+The wild flowers gemmed with dew--the quivering foliage vieing in colour
+with the emerald sward--the vistas dreamily grey and endless--the air
+balmy--the light soft and grateful.
+
+What a melody the birds make--a very paradise of sound!
+
+What flashes of splendid blues, reds, and yellows, as they dart from
+branch to branch!
+
+What a succession of novelties, and charms for eye and ear!
+
+Thoughts like these filled the mind of an individual seen near the
+settlement on a lovely morning, a few days after the council held by
+Oluski with his warriors.
+
+The individual in question was a woman.  She was on horseback, and as
+she checked her steed to gaze upon the scene before her, she presented
+to view a face and form signally beautiful.
+
+A frank, fearless, young face withal, of true maiden modesty.  Her hair,
+in a rich golden shower of curls, fell over a forehead of snowy
+whiteness, and a neck and shoulders admirably rounded.
+
+Her figure was graceful and striking; its contour shown off by the dark
+riding-dress she wore.
+
+A hat, with a heron's plume, stuck saucily on one side, covered her
+head.
+
+The horse she rode was a Seminole steed--of the Andalusian race--small,
+but well proportioned, as evidenced by the arching of its neck, proud of
+its fair burden.
+
+She remained for some time silently feasting her senses with the lovely
+prospect, herself a charming addition to its interest.
+
+After a while, she gave the reign to her horse, and allowed it, with a
+dainty, mincing step to pick its way along the path, occasionally making
+a pretence of alarm, pricking up its ears, drawing its head one side,
+and doubly arching its pretty neck as some idle butterfly, or
+quick-winged humming bird, darted across the road, or rose suddenly from
+a bed of wild flowers.
+
+Por a considerable distance the young lady proceeded without adventure
+or mischance, whilst her horse, having little affected airs, stepped.
+
+The fair equestrian's thoughts had not, it seemed, undergone any change,
+for the same pleasant smile illumined her countenance.
+
+Her thoughts were gay and happy, in unison with the surroundings.
+
+In this mood was she proceeding on her journey.
+
+Suddenly--indeed so suddenly as to cause her alarm--her steed came to a
+stop, showing signs of being scared.
+
+His eyeballs were distended, his fore-feet planted stiffly in advance,
+his mane standing almost straight, while he trembled in every limb.
+
+Another step, and horse and rider would have suddenly disappeared
+beneath the surface of the earth, and for ever.
+
+They were on the brink of one of those subterranean wells, or "rinks,"
+common in that part of the country, whose dangerous concavity is
+concealed by a light crust of earth; and only by the sudden sinking of
+the support beneath him is the unwary traveller apprised of the peril.
+
+Over the covering of the abyss the grass grew as greenly, the flowers
+bloomed as brightly as elsewhere.
+
+And yet under that fair seeming was a trap that conducted to death.
+
+In an instant the fair rider comprehended her peril.
+
+To advance would be certain death; to attempt to back her steed upon its
+own tracks almost as certain destruction.
+
+She knew but one thing to do, and she did it.
+
+Gently patting the creature's neck she addressed it in soothing words,
+whilst with a wary hand she held the bridle, her touch upon the horse's
+mouth so delicate that the very breeze might have swayed it.
+
+Her hand did not tremble, nor her eye quail, although the ruddy tinge
+upon her cheek had altogether disappeared.
+
+After a time the horse seemed to gain confidence; his tremor became
+subdued, and, instead of the wild frenzy in his eye, there was a dull
+look, while the foam rose to his nostrils, and sweat bathed his limbs.
+
+She continued to caress his neck, and soothe him with soft words.
+
+Moving neither up nor down, to right or to left, with her delicate hand
+she still held the bridle.
+
+But the danger still threatened.
+
+She saw it as she cast her eyes below.
+
+The ground was crumbling slowly but surely beneath the horse's feet, and
+a fissure had already opened wide enough to show the deep, black chasm
+underneath.
+
+She shuddered, closed her eyes for a second, and then opened them, only
+to see the fissure widening--the blackness growing more intense.
+
+A prayer rose up from her lips.
+
+She waited for the catastrophe!
+
+The tension on the horse's nerves became too great.
+
+Again the animal trembled!
+
+Its knees began to yield!
+
+The ground seemed all at once to give from beneath its feet!
+
+His rider felt that she was lost!
+
+No--saved!
+
+Just as her closing eyes saw the courageous animal slide into the black
+chasm, and heard its last snort of her terror, she felt herself lifted
+from the saddle, borne from the spot, and then--
+
+She knew no more.
+
+She had fainted!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
+
+A TRUE GENTLEMAN.
+
+It was Cris Carrol who had rescued the fair equestrian.
+
+The old hunter had perceived her danger, and, with the quickness of
+thought, mastered the whole situation.
+
+Without uttering a word, he stealthily approached the spot, until
+reaching a tree, one of whose branches extended over the horse's head.
+
+To clutch it, spring out on the projecting limb, and lift the young lady
+out of the saddle, were acts performed almost instantaneously.
+
+What followed was not so easy.
+
+He had not counted on the feminine weakness of fainting, and, with the
+dead weight of the swooning girl upon his arm, there was still a
+difficulty as to his future movements.  How was he to get back along the
+limb?
+
+He saw that nothing but sheer strength could accomplish it, and
+accordingly exerted all he had.
+
+With one hand grasping the branch, and the other around the unconscious
+form, he made a superhuman effort, and succeeded in reaching the trunk
+of the tree.  Against this he supported himself until he recovered
+breath and strength.
+
+While thus resting, he was witness to the engulfing of the gallant
+steed, as the snorting animal sank into the chasm below.
+
+The old hunter heaved a sigh.  He was sorry for the creature, and would
+have saved it had the thing been possible.
+
+"Wal, if it ain't too bad for a good, plucky crittur like that to die
+sich a death!  Confound them tarnal sink holes!  They've been the
+misfortun' o' many a one.  Thank goodness I've saved the feminine."
+
+The "feminine's" condition now demanded his attention, as the temporary
+faintness was passing away, and she showed signs of returning animation.
+
+With rare tact and delicacy, the old hunter, regardless of his own
+fatigue, softly lowered himself and his fair burden to the ground.
+Then, gently withdrawing his arm from her waist, he drew back a step or
+two.
+
+Taking of his seal-skin cap, he wiped the perspiration from his brow,
+and, with the gallantry of a true gentleman, waited until she should
+address him.
+
+The young lady he had rescued was no ordinary person.
+
+The faintness which had come upon her endured only for a short while.
+
+Recovering consciousness, she understood at a glance, not only the
+nature of the service rendered her, but also the character of the man
+who had rendered it.
+
+"Oh, sir!  I'm afraid that you have run a fearful risk.  I can hardly
+tell you how grateful I am."
+
+"Wal, miss, it war rayther a toughish struggle while it lasted.  But,
+bless ye, that's nothin' so long as it's turned out all right.  If you'd
+not been the plucky one you air, nothin' I could ha' done would have
+helped ye.  It war your own grit as much as my muscle saved ye from
+fallin' into that trap."
+
+"My horse.  Where is he?"
+
+"Yur right there, he's gone, poor crittur.  I'd ha' liked to saved him,
+too, for the way he behaved.  That dumb crittur had more sense in him
+than many a human; and it 'ud ha' done me a sight o' good to have pulled
+him thro'; but it wasn't possible, nohow."
+
+"Tell me, sir, where did you come from?  I did not see you."
+
+"Wal, I war clost by, and seed you ride right on to the danger.  It war
+too late to holler, for that would only ha' made things worse, an'
+skeared you both; so I said nothin', but jist dropped my rifle, and made
+track toarst ye.  I spied the branch above you, an' speeled up to it.
+The next war nothin'--only a spell o' twisting an' wrigglin'."
+
+He did not tell her that the muscles of his arms were fearfully swollen,
+and that it demanded all his power of endurance to prevent him groaning
+at the intense agony he suffered.
+
+But the young lady, with a quickness of apprehension, seemed to
+understand this, too.
+
+"Nothing, do you say?  Oh! sir, it's another proof of your noble
+courage.  I can never show you enough gratitude.  For all that, I feel
+deeply grateful."
+
+Her voice trembled with emotion--tears welled into her eyes.
+
+Her brave heart had well endured danger, but could not contemplate,
+without betraying its emotion, the self-generosity of her preserver.
+
+"Wal," said he, in order to change the conversation, which he thought
+too flattering towards himself, "what do you intend doing, now that your
+horse is gone?"
+
+She wiped the tears from her eyes, and in a firm voice answered him--
+
+"I'm not more than four or five miles from my home.  I merely rode out
+for pleasure.  I little thought that my excursion would end thus.  Where
+do you live, sir?  I don't remember to have seen you before."
+
+"At the settlement?" he asked.
+
+She nodded.
+
+"No; I ain't a resident of no place.  I'm as you see me--a hunter.  I've
+been at the settlement tho' many a time; in fact, I used to live on that
+thar spot afore thar war any settlement.  It war enough for me to know
+they war a-comin', so I pulled up stakes and quit.  You see, miss, it
+don't do for a hunter to live among the clearins; besides, I'm a deal
+happier by myself."
+
+"No doubt.  To a contented mind, such a life as yours must be a happy
+one."
+
+"That's it, miss; to them as is contented.  Do you know I've often and
+often puzzled over the expressin' o' that idear, and never could hit it;
+and yet you've gin it in the snapping of a jack-knife."
+
+"Perhaps you were going to the settlement when you saw me?"
+
+"No; exactly t'other way.  I war goin' from it.  I've been down beyont
+hyar to meet a friend o' mine.  It ain't long ago tho' since I war in
+the colony, and staid a spell there.  Now I'm bound for the big Savanna,
+that is, arter I've seen you home, and out of danger."
+
+"Oh, no thank you, that's not at all necessary.  I'm used to wander
+about alone, although this part of the country is a little new to me."
+
+"If you'll allow me, miss, I'll go with pleasure."
+
+"That I cannot do.  All I want to know now is your name?"
+
+"Cris Carrol," was the hunter's reply.
+
+"Then," said she holding out her pretty white hand, "Cris Carrol, I
+thank you with my whole heart for what you have done for me.  I will
+remember it to my dying day."
+
+Like a knight of ancient chivalry, the backwoodsman stooped and kissed
+the proffered hand.
+
+When he stood erect again, a flush of pleasurable pride made his rugged
+face look as handsome as an Apollo's.  It was the beauty of honesty.
+
+"Bless you, miss, bless you!  Cris Carrol will allers be too glad to do
+a sarvice for one that's real grit, as you air.  That I'll swar to.
+Bless you!"
+
+As she turned to take her departure, a sudden idea struck the
+backwoodsman--
+
+"Why, what a durn'd old fool I am; I never axed her for her name."
+
+"You'll pardon me, miss," said he, "I'm sure you will--but--"
+
+"But, what?" she asked, smilingly.
+
+"But, might I ask you--I'd like to know--" here he stammered and
+stuttered.
+
+"You want to know my name; that's it, isn't it?"
+
+"The very thing!"
+
+"Alice Rody."
+
+The old backwoodsman started on hearing it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
+
+BROTHER AND SISTER.
+
+As Alice Rody left the spot, which had so nearly proved her tomb, she
+thought of the old hunter with admiration.  His courage and honest
+courtesy had won her, but she had also noticed his surprise on hearing
+her name.
+
+Of the feeling entertained by him for her father and brother she knew
+nothing.
+
+The female mind loves riddles, and Alice, like a true woman, racked her
+brain for a solution of that one Carrol's conduct seemed to embody.
+
+Thus occupied, she emerged from the forest, and had proceeded some
+distance upon her road, when she perceived two individuals in close
+conversation.
+
+Their backs were turned towards her, and, as her light footfall did not
+disturb them, she got close to the spot on which they stood without
+their perceiving her.
+
+Near enough, in fact, to hear the following:--
+
+"Hark you, you black rascal!  If you betray me, it will be the worse for
+you.  I have a means of silencing those who prove false to me."
+
+Whatever reply the "black rascal" would have made was prevented by an
+impetuous gesture of the speaker, who had caught sight of Alice.
+
+"Ah, Alice, you here?" said he, facing towards her.  "I did not know you
+were abroad--"
+
+It was her brother Warren.
+
+Alice recognised in the "black rascal" no less a personage than
+Crookleg.
+
+Warren thrust a piece of silver into the negro's hands.
+
+"There, there, that'll do.  I'll forgive you this time, but remember!
+Now be off with you--be off, I say."
+
+Crookleg, cut short in his attempt to address Alice, hobbled away,
+muttering some words to himself.
+
+"Why, Warren," asked his sister, "what makes you speak so harshly to
+poor Crookleg?"
+
+"Because he's a pestilent fellow.  I want him to know his place."
+
+"But a kind word doesn't cost much."
+
+"There, sister! no scolding, if you please.  I'm not in the best of
+humours now.  Where is your horse?"
+
+Alice told her brother of the incident, and spoke warmly of Carrol.
+
+"So the old hunter did you a good service, did he?  I didn't think he
+had it in him, the old bear."
+
+"How unjust you are, Warren.  Bear, indeed!  I tell you that Cris Carrol
+is as good a gentleman as ever lived!"
+
+As she said this she showed signs of indignation.
+
+"Is he, indeed!" was the brother's mocking retort.
+
+"Yes--a thorough gentleman!  One who wouldn't wound another's feelings
+if he could help it--and that's my idea of a gentleman!"
+
+"Well, we won't argue the point.  He has done good this time, and
+that'll go to his credit; for all that, I don't like him!"
+
+Alice bit her lip with vexation, but made no reply.
+
+"He's too officious," continued Warren; "too free with his advice--and I
+hate advice!"
+
+"Most people do, especially when it is good," quickly answered his
+sister.
+
+"Who said it was good?"
+
+"I know it is, or you would have liked it, and have followed it."
+
+"You are sarcastic."
+
+"No--truthful."
+
+"Well, as I am in no mode for quarrelling, we'll drop the subject, and
+Cris Carrol too."
+
+"_You_ may, but I shall never drop him.  He is my friend from this time
+forward!"
+
+"You are welcome to choose your friends--I'll select my own."
+
+"You have done so already."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"That Nelatu, the Indian, seems to be one of them."
+
+"Have you anything against him?"
+
+"Oh, no.  I am only afraid he'll be the loser by the intimacy."
+
+"Am I so dangerous?" asked her brother.
+
+"Yes, Warren, you are dangerous, for, with all your pretended goodness,
+you lack principle.  You cannot conceal your real character from me.
+Remember, I am your sister."
+
+"I am glad you remind me.  I should forget it."
+
+"That's because you avoid me so much.  If you believed in my wishes for
+your welfare, you would not do that."
+
+Her voice trembled as she spoke.
+
+"Indeed, then I beg you won't waste your sympathy on me.  I'm perfectly
+able to take care of myself."
+
+"You think you are."
+
+"Well, have it that way if it pleases you better.  But what has this to
+do with my friendship for the Indian?"
+
+"A great deal.  I don't like your intimacy with him.  Not because he's
+an Indian--although that is one reason--but because you have some
+purpose to serve by it that'll do him no good."
+
+"Why, one would think you were in love with the young copper-skin!"
+
+"No, but they might think he's in love with me."
+
+"What! has he dared--"
+
+"No, he has dared nothing; only a woman's eye can see more than a man's.
+Nelatu has never spoken a familiar word to me, but, for all that, I can
+see that he admires me."
+
+"And you--do you admire him?"
+
+The young girl stopped in her walk.
+
+Her eyes sparkled strangely as she answered--
+
+"Shame, brother, to put such a question!  I am a white woman--he is an
+Indian.  How dare you speak of such a thing?"
+
+Warren laughed lightly at his sister, as he answered.
+
+"Why, you don't think that _I_ care for the fellow, do you?"
+
+The young girl saw her opportunity, and seized it.
+
+"And yet you pretend to be his friend.  Ah! have I caught you by your
+own confession?"
+
+"Again, what do you mean?"
+
+"That my doubts are now certainties--that some wicked scheme _is_
+concealed under this false friendship for Nelatu."
+
+"You are mad, Alice."
+
+"No, perfectly sane.  You have some design, and I advise you, whatever
+it be, to abandon it.  You don't like my tears, so I'll try to suppress
+them if I can; but I implore you, Warren, brother, to give it up now and
+for ever."
+
+She dashed a few bitter drops from her eyes ere she spoke again.
+
+"I have only you and my father to look to for support and comfort; my
+heart has yearned towards you both, but has met with nothing but
+coldness.  Oh, Warren, be a brave man--brave enough to despise
+wickedness, and you will not only make me happy, but, perhaps, avert
+that terrible retribution which overtakes transgression.  There is time
+yet; hear my prayer before it is too late."
+
+Her pleading voice fell upon an ear that heard not.
+
+The appeal did not reach her brother's stony heart.
+
+With a few commonplaces he endeavoured to exculpate himself from any
+evil intentions towards the young Indian.
+
+All in vain.
+
+Her woman's instinct saw through his hypocrisy, and showed him to her as
+he was--wicked!
+
+That night Alice Rody prayed long and earnestly for support in an
+affliction which she felt was but too surely coming; and she wept till
+her pillow was bedewed with tears!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
+
+A CHANGED CHARACTER.
+
+A wonderful change had taken place in the conduct of Elias Rody.
+
+He was most gracious--most condescending.
+
+He kissed all the children, chatted with the mothers, and listened to
+their narratives of infant ailments, husbands' delinquencies, or
+household troubles.
+
+To the surprise of many of the poorer settlers the hitherto aristocratic
+governor took, or appeared to take, great interest in their affairs,
+and, more wonderful still, in some instances, put his hand into his
+pocket to relieve their pressing necessities.
+
+Petty matters seemed to become deeply interesting to him, and he devoted
+time and attention to their adjustment.
+
+Through all this his temper was conciliating and amiable.
+
+Many personal quarrels, amongst settlers, were forgotten and forgiven
+through his means, whilst coolness were warmed into new friendships by
+his mediation.
+
+This was the work of some time, and the astonishment of his amiability
+gave way to self censure on the part of the observers, who charged
+themselves with having done him great injustice.
+
+No churlish man would have sent down provisions for the poor, have
+rebuilt Widow Jones's barn, or bought Seth Cheshire a new horse; and
+what mean man would have lent money to that drunken but popular Jake
+Stebbins, whose fiery nose, should Jake be abroad, was as a lighthouse
+on a dark night to any belated traveller?
+
+This was the impression that gradually got abroad about Elias Rody.
+
+He only smiled, rubbed his hands softly together, and muttered, "Humph!"
+
+The monosyllable was full of meaning.
+
+It meant that he thought his labour well bestowed, and that the design
+he had in view prospered even beyond his expectations.
+
+What this design was must be already apparent.
+
+He had courted this popularity to enable him to accomplish the dearest
+wish of his heart.
+
+After his bland dismissal of Oluski, laden with gifts, he had acquired a
+control over his own naturally impetuous temper which astonished
+himself.
+
+The refusal of the Seminole chief to give him quiet possession of the
+hill was the more annoying because it seemed to close for ever any
+further attempt at negotiation.
+
+He understood the Indian character sufficiently to know that they were
+unchangeable in their opinions, and seldom, if ever, to be moved from a
+resolution once taken.
+
+This tenacity of purpose had, time out of mind, brought ruin and
+devastation upon themselves as on those who sought to coerce them, and
+Rody ground his teeth with impotent rage when Oluski had announced the
+decision of the Indian council.
+
+The Judas smile that succeeded had root in another thought, which the
+governor had left out of his mind until the supreme moment of his
+defeat.
+
+Hence his changed conduct towards his fellow-settlers.
+
+They became almost to a man believers in him, and ready to do his
+bidding.
+
+He did not neglect, in his Machiavelian policy, to insinuate in every
+artful way his pet project of possessing the property on which the
+Indians were encamped.  So artfully, indeed, that in most instances the
+idea seemed to have originated in his listener's mind, and by them to
+have been suggested to Elias, thus skilfully reversing the true facts of
+the case.
+
+This once accomplished the rest was simple.
+
+A general feeling got abroad that the red men were interlopers, and had
+no right to usurp a spot so necessary and so useful to the colonists.
+This feeling, although not loudly expressed, was very deep, and, in
+nearly every instance, sincere.
+
+The few clear-headed and impartial planters who, proof against Rody's
+sophistical speeches, were assailed by him in a different manner--by
+specious promises of enlarged possessions, or by matter-of-fact appeals
+for the advancement of civilisation.  If he did not gain their approval,
+he, at any rate, made their objections seem narrow-minded and selfish.
+
+Only a few sturdy, honest men held out.  These Elias could do nothing
+with.  They rejected his proposals, laid bare his false arguments, and
+laughed at his facts--but as they were a very small minority, they had
+little influence.
+
+Ere Rody had accomplished this pacific revolution of opinion, the autumn
+had waned, and the winter months--if such a word can be used where there
+is no winter--approached, and with it the limit of the term of the
+Indians' stay upon the hill.
+
+With the first appearance of cool weather, Oluski and his tribe repacked
+their household gods, took their dwellings to pieces, and with their
+wives, children, horses, and cattle, quitted their late encampment.
+
+The bare poles again appeared cutting against the clear sky.
+
+The hill was once more uninhabited.
+
+A new sort of activity had sprung into existence upon its table top.
+
+In the place of Indians, with their painted plumes and primitive finery,
+the ground was occupied by white men--carpenters and other artisans,
+along with their negro attendants.
+
+Piles of prepared lumber, stones, and other building materials strewed
+the ground, whilst the busy workmen, black and white, made the air
+resonant with their jocund voices.
+
+A finished frame-house soon made its appearance on the spot where the
+Indians had but recently dwelt--a large structure, substantially built,
+and ornamental in finish.
+
+It belonged to Elias Rody.
+
+He had secured the sanction of the settlers, and they had determined to
+support him in his piratical design.  Only a very few of them had stood
+out against it.
+
+Thus strengthened, he had resolved upon, and had now completed his act
+of usurpation.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
+
+OVER CONFIDENCE.
+
+Oluski's dwelling, in his place of permanent abode, was a more
+pretentious affair than the wigwam temporarily inhabited by him at Tampa
+Bay.
+
+This eastern residence was an old Indian town that had been built long
+before the Spaniards had landed in Florida, and in it his people, for
+many generations, had dwelt.
+
+The chief having returned from an extended hunting excursion, was
+pleased to find himself once more beneath his paternal roof.
+
+Doubly pleased; for he had brought back with him his nephew, Wacora,
+who, thinking of his pretty cousin, had accepted his uncle's invitation
+with alacrity.
+
+Behold them, then, with pipes lighted, seated inside the house, Sansuta
+in attendance.
+
+Wacora watched the lithe-limbed maiden; as she flitted to and fro,
+engaged in household duties, he thought her as attractive as ever.  A
+certain consciousness on her part of the fact, in no way detracted from
+her beauty.
+
+"I am pleased, nephew," said Oluski, "pleased to see you here again.  I
+feel that I am no longer young, the support of your arm in a wearying
+day's march has been very welcome."
+
+"It is always at your service, uncle."
+
+"I am sure of it.  If Oluski thought otherwise he would be unhappy.
+Your cousin, Sansuta," addressing his daughter, "came to see you as much
+as to bear me company.  You should thank him for it."
+
+"I do."
+
+"Wacora is thanked already in the smile of welcome that met him in
+Sansuta's eyes."
+
+The young girl blushed at the delicate compliment, and, going out, left
+the two chiefs together.
+
+"You tell me, Wacora, that the affairs of your tribe are prosperous, and
+that there is peace and harmony in your council chamber?"
+
+"Yes, uncle, the same as in my father's lifetime."
+
+"That is well, for without that there is no real strength.  So it is
+with us."
+
+"You have told me nothing of the pale-faces at Tampa Bay."
+
+"They are our firm friends still.  In spite of your fears, Wacora, to
+the contrary, Rody and the colonists are true to their promises."
+
+"I am pleased to hear Oluski say so," was the nephew's reply.
+
+"I did not tell you that he had made an offer to buy the hill."
+
+"To buy the hill!  What hill?"
+
+"That on which we make our annual encampment.  We call it Tampa after
+the bay."
+
+"Indeed!  He wants that, too?" rejoined the young chief, in a tone
+savouring of indignation.
+
+"Yes; I called our council together, and told them of the offer."
+
+"And their answer?"
+
+"The same as my own; they refused."
+
+Wacora gave a sigh of relief.
+
+"When I carried that answer to the white he was not angry, but met me
+like a friend."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"Yes; he pressed upon my acceptance rich presents, and told me that
+Oluski's friendship was worth more than land."
+
+"But you refused the presents," said the young Indian, eagerly.
+
+"I could not; my old friend would take no denial.  Fearing to offend
+him, I yielded."
+
+The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of an Indian, one of
+the warriors of the tribe.
+
+"What does Maracota want?" asked Oluski.
+
+"To speak to Wacora, the chief."
+
+Wacora desired him to express his wishes in the presence of his uncle.
+
+"Marcota must speak to Wacora alone, if Oluski will allow it."
+
+Oluski made a sign to his nephew, who rising, followed the man outside
+the door.
+
+"Wacora must follow me further," signified the Indian.
+
+"Go on, I will do so."
+
+Maracota led the way, and only paused in his walk when he had got some
+distance from the dwelling.
+
+"Has Wacora faith in Maracota?"
+
+The young chief started at the question which his guide had put to him
+in a tone of strange earnestness.
+
+"Yes.  I have faith in you."
+
+"And he would serve Oluski, our chief?"
+
+"With my life!"
+
+"Sansuta is dear to Oluski."
+
+Again Wacora started.  Maracota's words were enigmatical.
+
+His guide continued--
+
+"Sansuta is beautiful."
+
+"We all know that.  Was it to tell me this that you brought me here?"
+
+"The pale-faces admire the beauty of our Indian maidens."
+
+"What of that?"
+
+"One pale-face has marked Sansuta's beauty."
+
+"Ha!"
+
+"His eyes gladden at sight of her.  Her cheeks grow red at sight of
+him."
+
+"His name?"
+
+"Warren Rody."
+
+"How do you know all this?"
+
+"Maracota is Oluski's friend and watches over his chief's happiness.
+To-night Warren's messenger was in town--the negro, Crookleg."
+
+The young chief was silent.  Maracota watched him without breaking in
+upon his thoughts.
+
+Recovering himself, Wacora asked--
+
+"Where did you see the negro?"
+
+"In the old fort."
+
+"The old fort!  What was he doing there?"
+
+"Maracota followed his trail--a lame foot and a stick--and saw him as he
+entered the ruin; some one was waiting for him inside."
+
+"Who was with the negro," demanded Wacora.
+
+"His master," repeated Maracota.
+
+"Warren Rody?"
+
+Maracota nodded.
+
+"I heard their talk," he said.
+
+"What did they say?" asked the young chief.
+
+"At first, I could not hear--they spoke in whispers.  After a time they
+grew angry.  Warren abused Crookleg and struck him.  The black man
+uttered a fierce oath and leaped over the wall of the fort at the side
+opposite to where I lay hid."
+
+"Did you hear their conversation before they quarrelled?"
+
+"I heard the pale-face say Crookleg had only half done his errand and
+must return to complete it.  The black refused.  It was then the other
+got angry and struck him."
+
+"This is very strange, Maracota.  It is some treachery I cannot
+understand.  The negro must be found and questioned!"
+
+"Well, Massa Injun, dat ain't hard to do.  He, he, he!"
+
+Had the fiend of darkness himself risen between the two Indians, they
+could not have been more startled than when these words were uttered in
+their ears, for it was Crookleg who spoke.
+
+The darkey appeared delighted at the effect his sudden appearance had
+created, and continued for some time to chuckle in great glee.
+
+"Yas! here be de 'dentical nigger wot you was a-wishin' for.  You hab
+found him 'ithout gwin far.  He, he, he!"
+
+Wacora turned sternly towards him.
+
+"And having found you, wretch, I mean to keep you till I've made you
+speak the truth."
+
+"De trufe, Massa Injun, am what dis ole nigga always 'peak.  He can't
+help it, kase it comes so na'tral to him.  Trufe an' innocence is dis
+chile's on'y riches, tank heaven!"
+
+The look which accompanied this impious speech was almost diabolical.
+
+Wacora cut him short in an attempt to continue his speech, by a command
+instantly to make known what Warren Rody wanted, with what message he
+had been charged, and to whom.
+
+Crookleg, however was not easily taken at a disadvantage.
+
+"Well, Massa Injun, I don't mind tellin' you somet'ing, but I don't like
+talkin' afore other folk.  You send dis indiwiddle away," pointing to
+Maracota, "an' ole Crook'll tell you all about it.  He meant to do so,
+when he comed here so sudden."
+
+With a sign the chief dismissed Maracota, and telling the black to
+follow, led him a little distance further from the town.
+
+A long, and apparently interesting conversation ensued, in which
+Crookleg's gesticulations were, as usual, violent, while the young
+chief, with arms folded, and brows knit, listened to his narration.
+
+It was late ere they separated, the negro hobbling back in the direction
+of the ruin, while Wacora returned to his uncle's dwelling.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
+
+A LOVE MEETING.
+
+The old fort, as already said, was in a ruinous condition.
+
+It had at one time been a stronghold of the Spaniards, but on their
+quitting that part of the country, it had been suffered to fall into
+decay.
+
+Early in the morning succeeding Wacora's interview with Crookleg, two
+persons stood conversing near the inner wall of the ruin.
+
+They were Sansuta and Warren Rody.
+
+The Indian girl had stolen from her father's house unnoticed by the few
+early risers, and with cautious steps had gained the fort.
+
+Warren's presence at such a distance from Tampa Bay, as well as
+Crookleg's attendance upon him, were thus explained:--
+
+"I am very grateful to you, Sansuta, for coming here to meet me."
+
+"I am afraid I have done wrong."
+
+"Wrong!  What can you mean?"
+
+"That I am deceiving my father, my kind father; but it is for the last
+time."
+
+"The last time?"
+
+"Yes, I have determined that this shall be our last meeting.  I could
+not endure my father's reproaches, if he knew that I betrayed his
+confidence."
+
+"Do you doubt my love for you, Sansuta?  Will it not make up for
+Oluski's anger?"
+
+"Warren!"
+
+The reproachful tone in which Sansuta uttered his name, recalled young
+Rody to himself.
+
+He immediately changed his tactics.
+
+"But why talk of Oluski's anger?  Rather speak of my love.  Surely you
+do not doubt it?"
+
+The Indian maiden heaved a sigh.
+
+"Sansuta does not doubt you, but she is unhappy."
+
+"Unhappy!  Why?"
+
+"Because an Indian girl would make but a poor wife to a white
+gentleman."
+
+A strange smile crossed the young man's face.  He did not, however,
+interrupt her.
+
+"If Sansuta cared for you less, she would not have been here this
+morning; she would not have seen you again."
+
+"Come, come, dearest, you alarm yourself without reason.  Need I tell
+you how much I love you--how I have always loved you?  Have we not grown
+up together?  What more natural than love like mine?"
+
+"But your father--"
+
+"He will not object.  Why should he?  Is he not Oluski's best friend?"
+
+"Yes, they are friends, but still--"
+
+Warren saw that the girl was nervous and alarmed.  He lost no time in
+reassuring her.
+
+"And, after all, dearest, we need not tell them of our love until we are
+sure of their consent.  In the meantime, let us think only of ourselves.
+You have not yet told me what I longed to hear."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"The whispering assurance that your heart is mine?"
+
+A painful struggle was evidently taking place in the maiden's breast.
+Filial duty and self-reproach contended with that feeling, nurtured by
+the soft blandishments of the scoundrel by her side.
+
+In such a contest love is always the victim.
+
+This case was not exceptional.  Softly murmuring the young man's name,
+Sansuta hid her head upon his shoulder.
+
+His arm enclasped her waist.
+
+The confession had been made.  The die was cast!
+
+They were both startled by a sound heard near.  It was like some one
+sighing.
+
+Warren, with the eye of a lynx, searched among the weeds and wild vines,
+and pierced through the foliage on all sides, but saw nothing.
+
+Reassuring her with honeyed words, he then led the girl away from the
+spot.
+
+As soon as they had disappeared a man's form was seen standing upon the
+place they had last occupied; while another was visible at no great
+distance from it.
+
+He who first made appearance seemed utterly bowed down with grief,
+whilst a cloud black as night was visible on his brow.  It was the
+chief, Wacora!
+
+With an angry and contemptuous action he flung some pieces of money to
+the other who had followed him, and was the negro Crookleg.
+
+"Begone!  Wacora may use you for his revenge--you shall not witness his
+grief.  Begone!"
+
+The black picked up the coins, grinned hideously and hobbled away.
+
+Wacora stood for some time rapt in his own sad thoughts.  Then, turning
+his back upon the old fort, he retraced his steps to Oluski's dwelling.
+
+The old chief found but a dull guest in his nephew during that and many
+succeeding days.
+
+He would sit for hours seemingly lost to all that was passing around
+him.
+
+Then starting up suddenly he would stride out of the dwelling with rapid
+steps, pass out of the town, and on to the adjoining woods, plunging
+into their depths, to emerge from them hours after, sullen and
+abstracted as ever!
+
+His anxiety to return to his own tribe seemed to have passed away; and
+day by day he deferred his departure on the plea of some trivial excuse
+of remaining.
+
+He watched Sansuta's movements, however, with the jealous care a mother
+might exercise over her infant child.  Every look, word, and action
+seemed to command the closest scrutiny.
+
+The girl often trembled as she caught the young chief's eye gazing upon
+her.  His stern demeanour agitated her.  She suspected that he knew her
+secret; although neither by word or action did he betray the knowledge.
+
+Oluski was amazed at his conduct.  In their conversation there was a
+renewed bitterness when they talked of the pale-faces and their actions.
+It astonished the old Seminole chief.  He could not understand the
+sudden growth of such an unjust antipathy; therefore became more
+reticent, and would sit for hours without exchanging a word with his
+nephew.
+
+Time passed in this manner until the period for the annual migration of
+the tribe to Tampa Bay.  To Oluski's surprise, Wacora signified his
+intention to accompany them, and along with them he went.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINETEEN.
+
+A CHANGED SCENE.
+
+A still greater surprise was in store for the Seminole chief and his
+tribe.
+
+The Indians stood as if petrified, when they came within eight of the
+well-known hill.
+
+Upon its table top, and visible for miles around, stood a frame mansion,
+in all the glitter of fresh paint.
+
+When Oluski first saw it, he uttered an exclamation of agonised anger,
+at the same time clutching hold of Wacora's arm; but for its friendly
+support he had fallen to the ground.
+
+"Look, Wacora; look yonder!  What is it we see?"
+
+As he spoke, he passed his hands across his eyes to shade off the sun.
+
+No; they had not deceived him; there was no glamour over them.  The
+sun's beams were shining brightly upon a house.
+
+His nephew looked sadly into the old man's face, fervently pressing his
+hand.  He dared not trust himself to speak.
+
+"And this is the act of a friend.  So much for my blind faith in the
+traitor's deceitful words.  May the curse of the Great Spirit fall on
+him and his!"
+
+Wacora added--"Yes; may both be accursed!"
+
+Then drawing his uncle away from the contemplation of the painful sight,
+he conducted him to a neighbouring grove of oaks; the tribe halting near
+the spot.
+
+A council of the chief men was instantly called, and a plan of action
+resolved on.
+
+Oluski and Wacora were commissioned to visit the white settlement, and
+demand the reason of this scandalous usurpation.
+
+The Indians proceeded no farther.
+
+That night they encamped upon the spot where they had halted, and early
+the next morning the two chiefs departed on their mission.
+
+As they approached the hill another surprise awaited them.
+
+Surrounding it was a strong wooden stockade, with substantially built
+block-houses at regular distances from each other.  Behind the
+palisading men were seen, as if watching the approach, and ready to
+receive them in a hostile manner.
+
+"See!" cried Wacora, "they are prepared for our reception.  The robbers
+have determined to maintain themselves in their stolen possession."
+
+"Yes, yes!  I see.  But let us not act rashly.  We will first make an
+appeal in the name of justice.  If they refuse that, then we must prove
+ourselves worthy the blood in our veins! worthy of our ancestors!  Oh, I
+would rather be lying among them in yonder graveyard than that this
+should have arisen!  The fault has been mine, and upon me let fall the
+punishment.  Come on!"
+
+They reached the central block-house, and were summoned to a halt by one
+of the settlers, who, gun in hand, stood by the entrance.
+
+"Who are you?  What do you want?"
+
+Oluski answered--
+
+"White man, go tell your governor that Oluski, the Seminole chief, would
+speak with him."
+
+The sentinel answered sharply--
+
+"The governor is not here.  He is at his house, and cannot be
+disturbed."
+
+Wacora's hand clutched his tomahawk.  Oluski perceiving the act, laid
+hold of his nephew's arm.
+
+"Patience, Wacora, patience!  The time for bloodshed will come soon
+enough.  For my sake be patient."
+
+Then, turning to the sentry, he continued, his eyes flashing in their
+sockets.  "Fool!" said he, "go with my message; the lives of hundreds
+may depend upon it.  Tell your chief that I am here!  Bring him
+instantly before me!"
+
+The dignity of the old Indian's manner struck the man with respect.
+Perhaps the nervous twitching of Wacora's fingers about the handle of
+his tomahawk had also its effect.
+
+Calling out to a comrade who was near, and placing him at the post, he
+hastened off towards the house.
+
+The two Indians, without exchanging speech, patiently awaited his
+return.
+
+There was evidently some commotion within the frame dwelling at the
+reception of the news, as several men, well armed, were observed
+hurrying off in different directions, and taking station along the line
+of the stockade.
+
+Shortly after, the man who had been sent was seen coming back.
+
+Throwing open the strong slab door, he beckoned the two chiefs to enter.
+
+They did so; and then, leading them inside the block-house, the man told
+them there to await the governor's arrival.  It was not long delayed.
+
+Elias Rody was seen coming forth from his new mansion, followed by five
+or six stalwart settlers.
+
+All save himself carried rifles.
+
+The Indians stood still as statues.
+
+They made no movement to lessen the distance between themselves and the
+white men.
+
+At length Elias Rody and Oluski stood face to face.
+
+A close observer might have detected signs of fear in the governor's
+countenance.
+
+Despite his assumed boldness of bearing, he found it hard to look into
+the face of the man he had so cruelly wronged.
+
+It was he, however, who first broke the silence so painful to himself.
+
+"What does Oluski wish to say to me?"
+
+"What is the meaning of this?" asked the chief, pointing to the mansion
+as he spoke.
+
+"That is my new residence."
+
+"By what right have you built it on this ground?"
+
+"By the right of possession--bought and paid for?"
+
+Oluski started as if a shot had struck him.
+
+"Bought and paid for?  Dog of a liar!  What do you mean?"
+
+"Only that I have built my house upon land purchased from you.  Your
+memory appears bad, my old Indian friend."
+
+"Purchased from me?  When--how?"
+
+"Do you already forget the guns, powder, and valuables I gave you?  Fie,
+fie! you are trying to cheat me!  Surely you must remember your bargain!
+But if your memory fail you, these gentlemen," here Rody pointed to the
+settlers, "these gentlemen are prepared to certify to the truth of what
+I say."
+
+Oluski only groaned.
+
+The audacious treachery of the white man was beyond his simple belief.
+
+Wacora, burning with indignation, spoke for him.
+
+"False wretch, the lie these men are ready to swear to is too monstrous
+to be believed, even were they upon their oaths!  Those gifts were
+thrust upon my uncle, falsely bestowed as the lands he gave you were
+falsely claimed for services done to him!  Your black heart never
+conceived a generous thought or a just deed!  All was for a treacherous
+end--the betrayal of this noble-minded chief, as much your superior as
+the Deity you profess to worship is above the white man himself!  Wacora
+despises you!  Wacora has said it!"
+
+He drew Oluski towards him, and stood erect and proud in the
+consciousness of right before the trembling usurper and his adherents.
+
+The aged chief had recovered himself while his nephew was speaking.
+
+"What Wacora has said is good, and he only utters my own thoughts.  I
+came here ready to receive atonement for the wrong done me and my
+people.  I now see that there is a darker depth of treachery in you,
+even than this which has robbed a confiding man of his best-loved
+possession.  I, Oluski, the Seminole, spit at and despise you!  I have
+spoken!"
+
+With a kingly dignity the old chief folded his blanket around him, and
+leaning on his nephew's arm, slowly departed from the spot.
+
+Rody and his followers, as if transfixed by the withering contempt with
+which the Indians had treated, them, suffered the two to depart without
+molestation.
+
+They now redoubled their watchfulness, stationed additional sentinels
+around the stockade, and looked after the arms and ammunition, with
+which they would, no doubt, have to defend the usurped possession.
+
+The small cloud that had been slowly gathering over the settlement was
+growing dark and portentous.  The soft breeze was rapidly rising to a
+storm.
+
+The people of the settlement, alarmed by the news of the interview
+between Rody and the Indian chief's, which spread rapidly among them,
+hastened to take measures for the safety of their families.  The women
+and children were hurriedly brought in from the outlying plantations,
+and lodged in temporary abodes within the stockade, whilst provisions in
+plenty were carried to the same place.
+
+The war signal had sounded, and before long the work of carnage would
+commence!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY.
+
+STILL ANOTHER SORROW.
+
+Disappointed and chafed, the two chiefs returned in all haste to the
+Indian encampment.
+
+But few words had been spoken between them on their way from the hill.
+A firm pressure of his uncle's hand was proof that Wacora, once embarked
+in the impending contest, would remain faithful to its end.
+
+It needs no speech among true men to establish confidence.  Between the
+two chiefs it was mutual.
+
+As they neared the spot where the tribe had pitched their tents, an
+unusual excitement was observable.  Men and women were conversing in
+little groups, animated apparently by the receipt of some startling
+news.
+
+The two chiefs at first imagined that the result of their interview was
+already known; but on reflection, the impossibility of the thing became
+apparent to them, and their surprise was extreme.
+
+All at once they saw Nelatu hastening towards them.
+
+The young man seemed ready to drop as if from fatigue.  His looks told
+that he was a prey to the keenest anxiety.
+
+On arriving before the two chiefs, he was for some moments unable to
+speak.
+
+Words rose to his tongue, but they found no articulate utterance.  His
+lips seemed glued together.  Drops of sweat glistened upon his brow.
+
+The father, with a dreadful prescience of new sorrows, trembled at the
+sight of his son.
+
+"Nelatu," he said, "what anguish awaits me?  Of what fresh disaster do
+you bring the tidings?  Speak! speak!"
+
+The young Indian again essayed, but only succeeded in muttering
+"Sansuta!"
+
+"Sansuta!  What of her?  Is she dead?  Answer me!"
+
+"No; she is not dead.  Oh! father be calm--have courage--she is--"
+
+"Speak, boy, or I shall go mad!  What of her?"
+
+"She is gone!"
+
+"Gone!  Whither?"
+
+"I have sought her everywhere.  I only heard of her departure after you
+left the encampment.  Bury your tomahawk in my brain if you will, for I
+have been the cause."
+
+"What does the boy rave about?  What does it all mean?  Has the Great
+Spirit cursed me in all my hopes?  Speak, Nelatu.  Where is your sister?
+You say she is gone.  Gone!  Gone!  With whom?"
+
+"With Warren Rody!"
+
+Oluski uttered a shriek of mingled rage and grief, pressed his hand upon
+his heart, and reeling, would have fallen to the earth but for Wacora's
+arm, at that instant thrown around him.
+
+The two young men bent over his prostrate form, which his nephew had
+gently laid upon the sward.
+
+A few faint, murmuring words escaped from his lips; so faint, indeed,
+that they were not comprehended by either son or nephew.
+
+The frown which had gathered on his brow in his interview with Elias
+Rody gradually gave place to a gentle smile.  His eyes, for an instant,
+rested sorrowfully on the face of Nelatu, then on Wacora, and were
+closed for ever!
+
+With that look had his life ended.  The spirit of the Seminole Chief had
+departed to a better land.
+
+Wounded in his friendship, doubly wounded in his pride, cruelly stabbed
+by the desertion of his own daughter and the weakness of his own son,
+outraged as friend and father, the old man's heart had burst within his
+bosom!
+
+Tenderly covering the body with his blanket, Wacora stooped and kissed
+the cold brow in silence, registering a vow of vengeance upon his
+murderers!
+
+Nelatu, stunned by the suddenness of the event, hid his face in his
+hands, and gave way to lamentation and tears.
+
+That evening the remains of their chief were interred in a temporary
+grave, around which the warriors of the tribe, by their own consent now
+commanded by Wacora, joined in an oath of sure and ample vengeance.
+Coupled with their oath was the declaration that war and rapine should
+not cease until the hill was again their own, and the body of their
+beloved chief laid peacefully beside the bones of his ancestors.
+
+That night the red pole was erected in their encampment, and under the
+glare of pine torches was performed around it the fearful scalp-dances
+of the tribe.
+
+The white sentinels upon the hill saw afar off the fiendlike
+performance, and, as around echoed in their ears their wild shriek, they
+turned trembling from the hill, and cursed Elias Rody!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
+
+WACORA CHOSEN CHIEF.
+
+Wacora was unanimously elected war chief of the tribe over which his
+uncle had long ruled.  Nelatu's claims were so slight, his ability so
+deficient, that not one of the warriors wished to nominate him for the
+important position.
+
+To Wacora the honour was of inestimable value.  By its means there was
+now a hope for the realisation of his long-cherished dream--the
+redemption of the red-man by the union of all the tribes into one
+powerful nation.
+
+He instantly dispatched messengers to the braves of his own sub-tribe,
+summoning them to Tampa Bay, to take part in the conflict.
+
+He was answered by the speedy arrival of a large and well-armed force,
+who, mingling with Oluski's people, now became one community.
+
+Obedient to his mandate, they continued to preserve an ominously
+peaceful attitude towards the settlers, who, but for a knowledge to the
+contrary, might have comforted themselves with a belief that the red men
+had left the bay.
+
+But although unseen, their presence was not unfelt.  The news of
+Oluski's death had spread a feeling of alarm among the white colonists,
+which the heartless and assumed indifference of Elias Rody and his
+adherents could not dismiss from their minds.
+
+The "governor" seemed to have returned to the courses of his early life.
+He had for many years been a man of sober habits; but since the
+building of his new house a change had come over him.  He had begun to
+drink freely, and in the excitement of preparation for the defence of
+his usurped property, he found a thousand excuses for the indulgence of
+that appetite so long kept under control.
+
+Still another matter gave discomfort to the governor.  His son had been
+for some time missing from the settlement, and in a mysterious manner.
+His disappearance had a marked effect on his father's temper, and when
+not cursing himself for the general discomfort he had caused, he cursed
+the son for adding to it!
+
+It will thus be seen that although Elias Rody had prepared his own bed,
+and was obliged to lie upon it, it was proving anything but a bed of
+roses.
+
+Had it not been for the presence of his daughter Alice, the new mansion
+in which he now lived, and for which he might yet have to pay dearly,
+would have been a perfect pandemonium to him.
+
+That amiable girl, by her gentle behaviour, did much to soften the rude,
+inharmonious elements around her; and the roughest of her father's
+roystering companions were silent and respectful in her presence.
+
+She was like a ministering angel among those who had taken refuge within
+the stockade.  She never seemed to tire of attending upon them or their
+wants.  Her kind sympathetic voice and assiduous care were of
+inestimable service to the sick, who blessed her in their hearts.
+
+Nothing in the meantime had been heard of her brother Warren.
+
+Crookleg had also disappeared, although no one particularly missed him.
+
+Cris Carrol, the hunter, had not returned to the settlement.  In some
+distant savanna he was no doubt tranquilly passing his time, at peace
+with all the world.  Such was the condition of affairs.
+
+The first preparations for strife between the Whites and Indians had
+been made; and to several other outrages, similar to that committed by
+Elias Rody, may be traced the causes of that Seminole war which cost the
+government of the United States some thousands of lives, along with
+several millions of dollars, to say nought of the reputation of six
+hitherto distinguished generals.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
+
+A CONVERSATION BETWEEN COUSINS.
+
+The tranquil state of affairs did not last for long.
+
+The Indians, eager to revenge Oluski's death, wore impatient of the
+restraint Wacora would have imposed upon them, and at a council convened
+for that purpose, they determined to attack the stockade upon the hill.
+
+This determination was hastened by several rencontres which had taken
+place in the outlying districts.
+
+A small party of the red men, led by Maracota, had pillaged and
+destroyed a plantation.
+
+Near the bay they had been met by some of the white settlers as they
+were returning from their work of destruction.
+
+In the _melee_ which ensued a number of Indians were killed, while their
+white adversaries met with little loss.
+
+These and some individual cases of contest had worked the red men up to
+a pitch of savage earnestness that took all Wacora's temporising power
+to restrain.
+
+He knew the character of the people he had to deal with too well to
+hazard opposition to their will, the more so as his own desire for
+vengeance was as deep and earnest, but more deadly than theirs.
+
+One thought occupied his mind nobler than that of revenge--the
+regeneration of the Indian race.
+
+A chimera it may have been, but still his great ambition.
+
+He thus spoke to the assembled chiefs--
+
+"I do not urge upon you to withhold vengeance for injuries done to our
+race by the white enemy.  I only desire to make it more full and
+terrible.  This is but the beginning of a long list of retributions, the
+overflowing of accumulated wrongs, the first step towards freedom and
+redemption!  To take that step we must be patient until certain of
+success.  Then begins a warfare that will only end with the annihilation
+of our hated enemies and in a new existence for the red men!  Have I
+spoken well?"
+
+Loud approbation greeted him from the assembled warriors; but such is
+the inconsistency of human character that individually they devised
+means for immediate retaliation on the settlers.
+
+Hence the several encounters which had already taken place.
+
+Nelatu, mortified at his own weakness, was among the warriors addressed
+by Wacora.
+
+On returning from the council, the young chief approached his cousin.
+
+"Nelatu, you would do something to make up for your blind infatuation,
+that has led to such misfortunes?"
+
+"I would, Wacora, I would.  My father's face seems always before me,
+reproaching me as my sister's destroyer."
+
+"Then action is the only way by which to shake off the remorseful
+feeling.  Our efforts have till now been fruitless in tracing the spot
+to which your sister has been carried.  She must be found, and the
+punishment of the guilty made sure."
+
+"Not Sansuta.  You would not injure her?"
+
+Wacora smiled sadly, as he pressed his hand upon his heart.
+
+"No, Nelatu, I would not injure your sister.  Alas!  I had already
+learned to love her.  I would not hurt her for worlds.  It is the wretch
+who has carried her away.  I would have him suffer a thousand deaths,
+and every death more terrible than the other!"
+
+"Tell me, what can I do?  If I remain idle, I shall die!"
+
+"Take three or four of my own people, follow every trail that promises
+to lead to where they are concealed, and having found the monster, bring
+him to me alive."
+
+Wacora's eyes, as he uttered these words, blazed with passion.
+
+"I would rather go alone," said Nelatu.
+
+"As you please; but remember, that there is one man you dare not trust,
+and yet he may be the means of finding Sansuta."
+
+"His name?"
+
+"Crookleg, the negro."
+
+"But he, too, is missing."
+
+"I know it, and therefore he can lead you to their hiding-place, if he
+can be found.  With Crookleg to assist you, you may succeed; without him
+your search will be fruitless."
+
+"How am I to find him?"
+
+"By diligent search.  He is not near the spot, but yet not so distant as
+to be ignorant of what is passing.  He has the cunning of the wild cat;
+remember that."
+
+"I'll be a match for him, never fear, cousin."
+
+Wacora glanced pityingly at the simple youth.
+
+He thought of his confiding nature, and felt that if the only chance of
+finding Sansuta lay in cunning, they would never be discovered.
+
+"Well, Nelatu, I have given you the best advice I can.  Will you
+undertake the search?"
+
+"I will!"
+
+"When?"
+
+"At once, Wacora."
+
+With these words the cousins separated.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
+
+THE STRAYED CANOE.
+
+That night Nelatu left the Indian camp.
+
+Wacora had given him a few hints by which he thought his search for
+Crookleg might be facilitated.
+
+He had suggested that the negro lay hid within the neighbouring swamp.
+
+This wilderness, difficult to traverse, was of great extent.  It was
+only by a knowledge of its intricate paths that it could be successfully
+explored.
+
+Nelatu, fully appreciating the difficulty of his undertaking, was more
+than usually depressed.
+
+This journey through the track of dry timber was easy enough.
+
+On emerging from it he found himself on a broad savanna.
+
+On the other side of which lay the swamp to which Wacora had directed
+him.
+
+Its gloomy appearance struck a chill to the young chief's heart.
+
+Could it by any possibility be the place selected by Warren for
+Sansuta's concealment?
+
+He almost hoped his search for her in its sombre fastnesses might prove
+futile.
+
+Its aspect was especially forbidding at the time Nelatu reached it,
+which was in the early morning.
+
+A heavy fog rose from its dark waters, clinging around the rank
+vegetation, and veiling the mosses and spectral limbs of the decayed
+trees.
+
+A foetid breath exhaled from the thick undergrowth, and the air seemed
+charged with poison.
+
+No note of bird was heard; no bloom of flower seen.  Death in life was
+everywhere apparent!
+
+Carefully, and with the quick natural instinct of his race, Sansuta's
+brother struck upon a well-defined trail leading inwardly from the
+borders of the morass.
+
+Following this with care, he had soon made considerable progress.
+
+The sun rising higher as he advanced, only revealed more clearly the
+gloomy character of the scene.
+
+The thick mist became dispelled; the verdure, dark but rich, glistened
+with drops of moisture, and the ghostly moss waved to and fro, stirred
+by a gentle breeze that had helped to dissipate the fog.
+
+With the bright sky, however, there came a corresponding lightness over
+the young man's spirit, and a doubt arose in his mind as to the guilt of
+his former friend.
+
+"I cannot believe all that he has been accused of.  Perhaps he is not
+guilty of carrying off Sansuta.  I always trusted him.  Why should he be
+so evil without a suspicion having crossed my mind that he was so?  He
+has not been seen since she disappeared; but yet Crookleg might be the
+guilty one.  If all I have been told be true, and Warren be the man, he
+shall bitterly pay for his crime.  But I will not believe it until I am
+convinced 'tis so."
+
+It will be seen that Nelatu was still a firm friend, ready to doubt even
+villainy.
+
+Suddenly the trail he was following came to an end.
+
+A deep black lagoon was before his feet.
+
+How to cross it?
+
+Its unrippled bosom showed it to be deep.
+
+Here and there jagged cypress stumps, to which clung drooping parasites,
+stood out of it.
+
+Nelatu felt that the trail he had followed was purposely terminated at
+the edge of the lake, doubtless to be discovered on its opposite shore.
+
+How to cross it?  That was the question.
+
+Stooping, he scanned the shore, but failed to trace any further evidence
+of the footsteps of man.
+
+He was on the point of retracing his path in order to look for a trail,
+when he was arrested by a faint sound, as from a movement in the water.
+
+It was very faint, but unmistakeable in its character.
+
+It was the stroke of an oar!
+
+He strained his eyes to catch a view of the boat which he felt sure was
+traversing the lake.
+
+After some time spent in the endeavour, his scrutiny was rewarded.
+
+A strange tableau was revealed to him.
+
+At a distance appeared the shadowy form of a canoe, in which two figures
+were seated.
+
+The fog, like a dull silver veil, was still spread over the lagoon, and
+his efforts to recognise the phantom-like forms were unavailing.
+
+The intervening curtain of vapour baffled even the keen eye-sight of an
+Indian.
+
+He hallooed to the spectral figures until the swamp re-echoed his
+shouts.
+
+In vain!
+
+No response came from the silent voyagers.
+
+He fancied that the measured pulling of the oars for an instant ceased,
+but so dim and unreal did it all appear, that he began to doubt the
+evidence of his senses.
+
+As he gazed the canoe glided silently out of sight.
+
+Muttering an angry adjuration at the ghostly oarsman, he threw himself
+upon the ground.
+
+Overcome with the fatiguing journey, and dispirited by his fruitless
+search, he soon fell into a deep slumber.
+
+The last film of the fog was now dispelled by the powerful rays of the
+sun.
+
+Birds sang in the trees above him, and from the black waters of the
+lagoon a huge caiman crawled up the banks to bask in the noontide glare.
+
+Still Nelatu slumbered.
+
+He slept until the meridian heat had passed, and the evening approached,
+seeming to lull all nature into silence.
+
+The young man's sleep was placid.  With his head pillowed on his arm, he
+lay like one dead.
+
+From this sweet unconsciousness he awoke with a start.
+
+A rippling sound as of some craft cleaving the water, once more fell
+upon his ear.
+
+Had the phantom canoe returned?
+
+A glance answered the question.
+
+Drifting near the shore was an empty dug-out.
+
+The broken manilla rope, dragging at the stern, told him why it was
+adrift.
+
+Without hesitation he plunged into the water, and in a few strokes
+reached the straying craft.
+
+Scrambling into it, he seized an oar found lying in its bottom, and
+paddled back to the place whence he had started.  Placing his gun ready
+beside him, he again paddled off, and rowed into the centre of the lake,
+steering his course, as nearly as he could remember, in the direction
+which, in the morning, he had observed the canoe to take.
+
+The spot, as he had marked it, was near a huge cypress tree.
+
+It proved to be at a greater distance than he thought, and the sun had
+well sunk in the western sky before he arrived at it.
+
+Once there he came to a stop.  Those he sought had evidently either gone
+further out into the open water of the lagoon or had made for one or
+other of the numerous narrow canals which debouched into it.
+
+Selecting that which appeared of the greatest width, he plied his oar
+and advanced towards it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
+
+A SMOKE INTERRUPTED.
+
+Although Cris Carrol was absent from the immediate neighbourhood of the
+settlement, he was none the less informed of what had happened since his
+departure.
+
+Several of the colonists, alarmed at the prospect of affairs, had
+quietly left Tampa Bay, and, meeting with the hunter, had told him of
+the events that had transpired within the past month.
+
+The backwoodsman's foresight had not deceived him.
+
+The whites, by which he meant Elias and his followers, had not heeded
+his advice, and worse had come of it.
+
+The hunter was nothing, if not oracular.
+
+"Wal," said he, "Governor Rody thought himself smart when he set to work
+buildin' that thar frame-house of his'n on the red-man's ground, but I
+reckon he'll pay for it yet in bloody scalps and broken bones.  Confound
+the old cormorant; his house will cause all of them poor white settlers
+no end of trouble.  It don't bear thinkin' on, that it don't.  As for
+his black-hearted whelp of a son, darn me if I wouldn't like to put an
+ounce o' lead into his carcass, if it war only to larn him some human
+feelin'."
+
+"But won't you go back to the settlement now, and see if your presence
+can do any good?"
+
+To this question, propounded by one of the fugitive settlers, Cris
+answered--
+
+"Good!  What good can I do now?  No, lad, the fat's in the fire this
+time, and, may be, I may better help some poor critter away from the
+place than anigh it.  I'll tell ye what it is, and it aint no use
+denyin' it.  Them there red devils means mischief, and the old cuss Rody
+knows it by this time.  The chief, Oluski, what you tell me air dead,
+war worth a whole settlement of Rody's--barrin' one--that is, barrin'
+one."
+
+"And who may that be?"
+
+"Who but his darter.  The most beautifullest gal that this coon ever set
+eyes on.  Bless her, I hope no hurt won't come to her, and there shan't
+either, if Cris Carrol can prevent it."
+
+In this manner did the honest hunter comment on the alarming news
+brought by the fugitives from Tampa Bay.
+
+Not that he approached the spot closely.  No; he had formed an idea of
+the manner in which he might be most useful; and, to do so, he must
+carefully avoid any appearance of interference between the contending
+parties.
+
+He, therefore, pursued his occupation of hunting; but contrived
+materially to narrow the circle of his excursions.
+
+Often as the image of Alice Rody presented itself to his mind, he would
+heave a painful sigh.
+
+"How such a gal came to be a child of that old trait'rous heathen is
+more nor I can reckon up.  It's one of them thar things as philosophers
+call startlers!"
+
+In one of these moralising, wandering moods the old hunter was seated on
+a tree stump on the afternoon of a day that had been more than usually
+fatiguing to him.
+
+He knocked the ashes from his pipe, took a plug of tobacco from his
+pouch, and began to cut up a supply for another smoke.
+
+"Ah!" muttered he, shaking his head, "I remember the time when there was
+happiness in the savannahs, and when them red-skins were ready to help
+the white man rather than fight agin them.  Them times is gone from hyar
+for ever!"
+
+He struck a light with his flint, and applied it to his pipe.
+
+Just as he had puffed two or three small clouds of smoke, and was
+preparing to enjoy himself to the fullest extent, a flash suddenly
+appeared, the pipe was knocked from his mouth, and the whizz of a bullet
+sounded in his ears!
+
+To grasp his rifle and shelter himself behind a tree, on the side
+opposite to that from which the shot proceeded, was but the work of an
+instant.
+
+"Red-skins, by the eternal!  I know it by the twang of that rough-cast
+bullet."
+
+Whether red-skins or white men, he did not find it easy to be certain,
+although he was up to every move in such an emergency.
+
+He knew that to look in the direction of the shot was to expose himself
+to almost certain death.
+
+He listened with breathless anxiety for the slightest sound, which might
+give evidence of the movements of the enemy.
+
+All remained perfectly still.
+
+Adopting a very old _ruse_, he stuck his skin cap upon the barrel of his
+rifle, and held it out a few inches beyond the trunk of the tree, by the
+side of which he had ensconced himself.
+
+A flash, a report, and it was pierced by a bullet!
+
+He was now fully satisfied that there was but one enemy with whom he had
+to cope.
+
+Had there been more, the first bullet, which struck the pipe from his
+mouth, would have been followed by another as quickly, but perhaps more
+surely aimed.
+
+With a rapid glance he surveyed the ground behind him.
+
+It was covered with undergrowth and fallen timber.
+
+His resolution was at once taken.
+
+He fell flat upon the earth, and noiselessly gliding away reached a
+tree, distant some paces, and in an oblique direction from the one he
+had left.
+
+From that spot he made his way to another, at a greater angle, and about
+equally distant from the second.
+
+The movements were affected with such agile stealthiness, as to be
+entirely unperceived by his unseen enemy.
+
+By the change of position he now commanded a side view of his unknown
+antagonist, who, unsuspicious of it, was keeping a close watch upon
+Carrol's supposed shelter.
+
+To raise his rifle to his shoulder was a natural action of the old
+hunter.
+
+Instead of pulling the trigger, however, some idea seemed to cross his
+mind, and pausing, he scanned his adversary.
+
+He saw it was Maracota who had fired at him!
+
+Carrol knew Maracota as a faithful and devoted follower of the late
+chief, and he felt loth to take his life, although he might easily have
+done so.
+
+The better thought prevailed.
+
+He felt convinced that the bullet fired by the Indian had been aimed in
+reality at one for whom Maracota had mistaken him.
+
+Advancing cautiously towards the unconscious warrior, the old
+backwoodsman crept from tree to tree until he was close upon him.
+
+Not anticipating an attack from the rear, and still fancying he
+commanded the hiding-place of the white man, Maracota, in spite of his
+Indian cunning, was completely in the white man's power.
+
+A loud shout, a quick bound, and Carrol had him in his grasp.
+
+With one hand upon his throat, the hunter had pinned him to the earth.
+
+"Not a word, you darned catamount, or I'll run my knife into your ribs!
+So you thought to circumwent me, did yer, with your Injun treachery?
+What would you say now if I war to raise your har, 'stead of letting you
+take mine?"
+
+Maracota could make no reply to the question, as the pressure on his
+throat stopped his breath as well as speech.
+
+The backwoodsman saw by the expression upon the Indian's face, that his
+own surmise had been correct.
+
+He was not the victim Maracota would have doomed to death.
+
+It was a mistake, but rather a serious one.
+
+Loosening his hold, he suffered the astonished Maracota to rise to his
+feet.
+
+"Yes; I can tell you've made a random shot at me.  Next time, try and
+see a man's face 'fore you pulls trigger on him, or it might be awkward.
+There's no harm done, only a worse shot nor yours I never saw.  I'd eat
+my rifle, stock, lock and barrel, afore I'd own to sich shooting.  Who
+war it you were arter?"
+
+Having at length recovered breath, the Indian was able to answer.
+
+"I took you for Warren Rody."
+
+"Much obleeged for the compliment.  Do I look such a skunk as that
+fellow?  If I do, put a brace of bullets into me, and we won't quarrel."
+
+The warrior grimly smiled.
+
+"Maracota has sworn to avenge Oluski's death.  Warren Rody must die!"
+
+"Wal, let him die.  I shan't stop you from riddin' the world of such as
+he.  What made you follow my trail?"
+
+"It was no trail I followed.  I have been seeking one from the north;
+yours came from the east."
+
+"Right you air; that's whar I hail from last."
+
+"Have you seen anything of him, or Sansuta?"
+
+"Hark hyar, Injun.  Altho' I might draw blood in the scoundrel if I saw
+him, I ain't a _man-hunter_, and that's why I haint been a follerin' any
+trail of his'n."
+
+Maracota's eager look gave place to one of despondency, as he
+muttered,--
+
+"Not found yet!  Where can they be?"
+
+"Ah, whar?  It ain't Warren as has hid whar he can't be found.  Some
+knowin' hand has put him up to it."
+
+"Yes, Maracota thinks so.  It must be the negro Crookleg."
+
+"Crookleg!  Is that all-fired nigger varmint mixed up with him?  That
+makes a brace of the durndest hounds that ever run together.  Who told
+you that Crookleg helped young Rody?"
+
+"The chief thinks so."
+
+"Wal, then, I'll bet a 'possum skin agin a musk rat's that he's right.
+Your chief, Wacora, is as likely an Injun at reck'nin up the merits o' a
+case as this coon knows on.  Now you've missed liftin' my scalp, what do
+you intend doin'?"
+
+"Go on looking for the chief who stole Oluski's heart, find him, and
+kill him."
+
+The glance that accompanied these words was full of deadly
+determination.
+
+"Wal, go, and good luck attend you.  Don't ask me to jine you, I tell
+you I ain't no man-hunter nor never will be; only, if either of them
+thar scamps should be out walkin' whar I chance to be, they had better
+have met with a mad bar than this Cris Carrol.  Never mind sayin' a word
+about that bad shot o' yourn.  The moment I seed you I knowed you didn't
+mean it for me, only next time be more partiklar, that's all."
+
+Without making reply, Maracota turned away, and was soon lost under the
+shadows of the forest.
+
+As soon as he was out of sight, the old hunter renewed his preparations
+for a smoke.
+
+Drawing from his pouch (which seemed to contain everything that the
+heart of a hunter could desire) another pipe, he was soon once more
+sending clouds of blue smoke up into the air.
+
+"If that Maracota meets Warren Rody or Crookleg he'll be an awkward
+customer to either or both on 'em; and that he may meet 'em he has Cris
+Carrol's best prayers and wishes."
+
+With this homely but sincere expression of his desires, the backwoodsman
+ceased to think of the deadly danger lately threatening himself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
+
+PREPARING FOR THE ATTACK.
+
+The Indians had, at length, determined upon making an attack upon Elias
+Rody's stronghold.
+
+The governor had got wind of their intention through a spy, a slave
+belonging to the tribe, who had turned informer through his seductive
+offers.
+
+A meeting of the settlers within the stockade was at once called.
+
+"Fellow citizens," said Rody, addressing them, "I have received some
+information that our enemies have resolved upon attacking us.  It is my
+duty to tell you this in order that every man may be prepared to defend
+himself and his family.  One thing I would have you remember; this war
+will be one of extermination; therefore be careful not to waste a
+bullet.  Let every pull upon your trigger send an Indian to his long
+account.  Let the cry be `no quarter!'"
+
+"Perhaps that'll be their motto too," remarked a voice in the crowd.
+
+"I perceive, sir," replied Rody, a little nettled at the running
+commentary on his speech, "I perceive that there are still one or two
+dissatisfied people amongst us.  Let them step forward, and declare
+themselves.  _We_ want neither renegades or traitors in our midst."
+
+"That's so," the voice replied.
+
+"Again I say, let those displeased with my views step boldly out, and
+allow me to answer any objections they may raise.  I've done nothing I
+am ashamed of.  I blush for nothing that I do."
+
+"No, you're past blushing!" was the ironical rejoinder.
+
+A suppressed titter ran round the assemblage at these pertinent remarks
+of the unknown; and the governor's temper was not improved by observing
+the effect the words had produced on his hearers.
+
+"I scorn to answer the fellow who is afraid to show himself; but I warn
+you all to be prepared for a desperate contest.  We have only ourselves
+to look to for our defence.  We are in the hands of Providence."
+
+"We are!"
+
+This sudden change from jeering comment to deep solemnity of utterance
+on the part of the unknown speaker struck awe into the crowd, and caused
+Rody to turn pale.
+
+In the hands of Providence!
+
+Yes, for good or evil.  For punishment or reward.
+
+The thought expressed in this manner was too much for the governor.
+
+He dismissed the meeting with a hurried admonition to be prepared for
+the worst.
+
+As he re-entered his house, he encountered his daughter face to face.
+
+"Father, I was about to seek you," said she.  "They tell me that you
+have heard bad news."
+
+"Bad enough, girl!  The red-skins are going to attack us."
+
+"Is there no hope?"
+
+"Hope, for what?"
+
+"That this bloodshed may be avoided.  Will they not listen to an offer
+of reconciliation?"
+
+"And who would dare to make it?"
+
+"Dare, father!  I do not understand you.  It is the duty of those who
+have done wrong to contrive by concession to atone for it, and, if
+possible, to make peace."
+
+"But who has done wrong?"
+
+Alice did not answer in words, but the look she bestowed upon her father
+was eloquence itself.
+
+"I see what you're thinking about, my girl.  It's very hard that inside
+of my own home I should meet with reproaches.  Isn't it enough for me to
+have to bear the sneers and taunts of others, without being forced to
+listen to them from you?"
+
+"Father!"
+
+"Oh, yes; now you'll try to say you didn't mean to reproach me; but it
+won't do.  I see it in your face; and, there, your eyes are full of
+tears.  That's the way with you girls, when you can't use your tongues,
+you have always a stock of tears ready.  But blubbering won't mend this
+matter; it's got to be settled with blows."
+
+"Oh, father! can nothing be done?"
+
+"Nothing, but prepare for the worst.  Now, girl, stop your crying, or
+you'll drive me stark mad.  I'll tell you what it is, I'm just in that
+sort of state that if I don't do something, I shall go clean out of my
+mind.  What with the worrying work here, and the grumbling discontent of
+a few paltry hounds about the settlement, I don't know how I keep my
+senses about me."
+
+The angry mood into which he had worked himself was, however, no novelty
+to his daughter.  She had of late seen it too often, and sorrowfully
+noted the change.
+
+Still, she was a brave girl, and knowing she had a duty to perform, she
+did it fearlessly.
+
+"Oh, father!" she exclaimed, apologisingly, "I did not mean to reproach
+you.  If my looks betrayed my thoughts, I cannot help them, much as I
+may regret giving you pain.  What I wanted to say was, that if there is
+any honourable way to avoid this bloodshed, it should be tried.  There
+is no disgrace in acknowledging a fault."
+
+"Who has committed one?"
+
+"You know wrongs have been done by white people against the Indians, not
+alone now, but ever since the two races have been brought together.  We
+are no better than others; but we can avoid their errors by trying to
+remedy the grievances they complain of."
+
+Old Rody stamped the floor with rage; his daughter's remarks made him
+wince.  Conscience, which he deemed asleep, was at work, and upon the
+tongue of his own child had found utterance.
+
+"Begone, girl!" he cried, "before I forget that you are my own flesh and
+blood.  You insult me beyond endurance.  I will manage my affairs my own
+way, without impediment from you.  Ay, not only my own affairs, but the
+affairs of all here.  I will have blind obedience; I demand it, and will
+exact it.  Begone!"
+
+His daughter looked him boldly in the face.
+
+"Be it so, father," she answered; "I have done my duty--will always do
+it.  Think, however, before it is too late, that to your conduct in this
+matter, the groans of widows and the sighs of orphans may be laid.  The
+happiness or misery of many rests upon your single word.  It is an awful
+risk--reflect upon it, dear father, reflect!"
+
+Her proud bearing gave place to tears.  Her womanly heart was full to
+overflowing.  It conquered her spirit for a time; and as she parted from
+her father's presence, she felt that the last hope of peace had
+vanished.
+
+"By the eternal powers!" cried he, "this will prove too much for me.  It
+must come to an end!"
+
+As Rody uttered these words, he drew from his pocket a flask and applied
+it to his lips.
+
+It was a bottle of brandy.  It seemed the last friend left him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
+
+FORCED INTO SERVICE.
+
+After entering the narrow stretch of water, Nelatu, for some time, plied
+his paddle with vigour.
+
+He then paused to examine the place.
+
+Sedges and cane-brakes grew thickly down to the water's edge.
+
+There appeared no passage through them.
+
+Resuming his course, he attentively watched for any sign of habitation,
+but for a long time without success.
+
+Just as he was turning the head of the canoe again in the direction of
+the lagoon, an object, floating on the surface, attracted his attention.
+
+It was an oar.
+
+A glance convinced him that it was the fellow of the one he held in his
+hand.
+
+Re-animated by this assuring proof that he was going in the right
+direction, he fished it up, and abandoning the more laborious mode of
+paddling, he adjusted the oars in the rowlocks, and bending to them,
+made more rapid way.
+
+He kept his eyes turning to right and left, on the lookout for a
+landing-place, which he now felt assured could not be far distant.
+
+His scrutiny was at length rewarded.
+
+A few hundred yards from where he had picked up the floating oar, a post
+was seen sticking up out of the bank.
+
+To this was attached a Manilla rope, the broken strands of which showed
+it to be the other portion of that fastened to the stern of the canoe.
+
+The clue was found.
+
+Those he had dimly seen in the morning, were doubtless close at hand.
+
+He ran the craft in shore, fastened it securely to the post, and landed.
+
+With cautious steps he followed the footprints now seen in the soft mud
+of the bank.
+
+They led to a sheltered spot, upon which a rude hut had been erected.
+
+The sound of a man's voice arrested his steps.
+
+"He, he!  I 'clare it makes dis chile larf, to t'ink about de trubble
+dat's brewing for dem.  De long time am comin' round at last.  I'se bin
+a waitin' for it, but it am comin' now."
+
+It was Crookleg who spoke; but for the time he said no more.
+
+A stunning blow from Nelatu's clubbed rifle--which would have crushed
+any skull but that of a negro--felled him senseless to the ground.
+
+On recovering consciousness, he found himself bound in a most artistic
+manner by a thong of deer-skin, which Nelatu had found near the hut.
+
+"Hush!" said the Indian, in a half-whisper; "not a word, except to
+answer my questions.  Don't move, dog, or I'll dash out your brains!"
+
+The negro trembled in every limb.
+
+"Is Warren Rody inside that hut?"
+
+Crookleg shook his head.
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"Don't know, Massa Injun; don't know nuffin 'bout him."
+
+"Liar!"
+
+"By him tressed life, massa, dis chile don't know."
+
+"Answer me--where is Warren Rody?  I give you one chance for your
+wretched life.  Tell me, where is Warren Rody?"
+
+The raising of a tomahawk above the negro's head convinced him that
+death would be the sure reward of untruth.
+
+"Don't, massa, don't kill de ole nigger.  He'll tell you all he knows.
+Oh, don't kill me!"
+
+"Speak."
+
+"He _war_ here, but he am gone."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Out ob de swamp into de woods."
+
+"And Sansuta?"
+
+"De gal am gone 'long wid him."
+
+Nelatu groaned.
+
+Warren, then, was guilty.
+
+"Do you know me?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, yes, massa, I knows you well--you am Sansuta's brodder.  I tole
+Warren he war a-doin' wrong, but he am so headstrong he would take your
+sister.  Dis chile's begged him not to do it."
+
+"False dog! you are deceiving me."
+
+"I swear, Mass 'Latu, I'se speaking the bressed trufe."
+
+Not deigning to reply, the Indian strode on to the hut, and entered it.
+It was deserted.
+
+A bead bracelet lying inside attested to the truth of that portion of
+Crookleg's story which told him Sansuta had been there.
+
+He returned to the negro.
+
+"Rise," he said, in a commanding tone.
+
+"I can't, massa; you has tied me so tight that I can't move."
+
+"Rise, I tell you," repeated the Indian with a threatening gesture.
+
+Beginning to obey, the negro rolled over the ground in the direction of
+the rifle which Nelatu had laid aside in order to tie him.
+
+Could he but reach that, he might defy his raptor.
+
+But the Indian was too quick for him.
+
+With a kick which made Crookleg howl with pain, he forced him aside, and
+secured the weapon himself.
+
+Seeing that his only chance was submission, the negro got upon his feet
+with some difficulty, and stood awaiting further orders.
+
+Nelatu now unfastened the thongs that bound him.
+
+"Go before me," he said.
+
+Crookleg hobbled forward with a demoniac look upon his face.
+
+They reached the water's edge.
+
+"Is that your canoe?"
+
+"Yes, massa; dat dug-out b'long to me."
+
+"Get in."
+
+The black scrambled into the stern.
+
+"Not there--the other end."
+
+Crookleg obeyed.
+
+Nelatu took the vacated seat.
+
+"Now, lay hold of these oars, bend your back, and row me to the place
+where you landed Warren Rody and my sister.  Remember, that if you make
+the slightest attempt to deceive me, I will bury my tomahawk deep in
+your brain."
+
+Thus admonished, the negro plied the oars, and the canoe darted rapidly
+through the water.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
+
+THE LOST SISTER.
+
+For more than an hour Crookleg was compelled to use the oars, until they
+had reached the other side of the lagoon.
+
+Nelatu, silent and wrapped in his own gloomy thoughts, watched his every
+motion.
+
+It was twilight when they made a landing within a sheltered bay upon
+that side of the swamp nearest the settlement.
+
+Beyond this lay the woods of which the negro had spoken.
+
+Compelling the black to precede him, Nelatu urged him forward until they
+had reached a mound covered with bushes.
+
+"Hush!  Massa Injun, we are near de place."
+
+"I see no signs of habitation!"
+
+"We is near it, for all dat.  It ain't a easy ting to find a place like
+dis 'ere whare dere are nuffin to show but de ground and dese ere
+bushes!"
+
+"Quick! lead me to the place!"
+
+"By-am-by, massa; for a mercy's sake hab jist a little patience.  'Twont
+do no good to be in a hurry, 'twont, indeed."
+
+Suspecting treachery, Nelatu would hear of no delay.
+
+"Remember, slave! what I threatened you with.  Conduct me at once to
+their hiding-place!"
+
+"Well, den, Massa Injun, if you must go, step light, or we'll gib Massa
+Warren de alarm.  He's as quick eared as a rabbit; dat he am.  And he
+may shoot us both afore we know; dat is, if he 'spects you am coming
+after de gal."
+
+With this caution, to which his companion silently agreed, they skirted
+the mound to its extreme end, where it seemed to terminate abruptly in a
+deep chasm.
+
+Once there, Crookleg threw himself upon the ground, motioning the Indian
+to do the same.
+
+Nelatu complied, still watching for any movement of betrayal on the part
+of his guide.
+
+With a stealthy hand the negro parted the bushes, and signed to the
+young man to look through the opening.
+
+He did so.
+
+Before his eyes was the entrance of a cave or grotto.
+
+Inside the entrance a pine-torch, stuck in the ground, illumined a
+portion of the interior.
+
+The light was obscured by the bushes, and it was only when these were
+parted that it became visible.
+
+Inside the grotto was Sansuta.  She was reposing upon a bed of moss.
+
+Behind her, on a large boulder of rock, sat Warren Rody!
+
+Nelatu was on the point of rushing forward, when he was stayed by the
+negro's hand clutching his arm.
+
+"Not yet, massa," he whispered, "you'd be shot afore you get two steps
+in dar, and dis poor ole nigga would nebba get away 'gain.  Let me go
+speak first, and gib Massa Rody de signal; and den I'll find a way to
+bring him out to you.  Don't you see that'll be de best plan to fix
+him?"
+
+"I cannot trust you from my sight.  Take your hand off my arm! let me
+go!"
+
+"Oh, massa, I shall be ruined, and murdered complete.  Don't you see dat
+afore you reach him he'd see you and fire?  De ole nigga's plan am de
+best.  Let me bring de fox out ob his hole!"
+
+Crookleg spoke reasonably.
+
+Nelatu might, it is true, have easily killed Warren from where he lay,
+but his sister's presence, Wacora's command, and a certain reluctance to
+shed blood, stayed his hand.
+
+"Well, then, do it, but on conditions."
+
+"What conditions, Massa Injun?  Name 'em, and I'se obey."
+
+"That you bring him away from my sister's side out here into the open
+ground; that every word you speak shall be loud enough for me to hear.
+Go!"
+
+"I'll go, massa."
+
+"See!"
+
+As Nelatu uttered this monosyllable he tapped his rifle.
+
+Crookleg took the hint.
+
+"I'se swear, massa, do dis ting right!  Dis ole nigga don't want no
+bullet through him karkiss.  I'se swear to do as you say!"
+
+With this asseveration he rose erect and entered boldly among the
+bushes, while Nelatu concealed himself behind them.
+
+Warren started to his feet, calling out--
+
+"Who's there?"
+
+"Hush, Massa Warren!  It's only me--ole Crookleg."
+
+"Come in, Crookleg."
+
+"No, Massa Warren, you come out here.  I'se want to show you somethin'."
+
+With a hasty glance at the slumbering maiden Warren Rody emerged from
+the cave.
+
+At the entrance he was suddenly confronted by Nelatu.
+
+"Nelatu!"
+
+A yell of fiendish laughter from Crookleg answered the exclamation.
+
+"He, he, he, he! ho, ho, ho!  Oh, dat am de best ting dis ole nigga eber
+done!  Ah, de time am comin' now!  Ho, ho!  Massa Warren, who kicked de
+ole dog of a nigga wot fetch and carry for de white man to de Injun gal?
+Ha, ha, ha!  I 'clare to mercy it am splendid!  Now I'll leave you two
+friends togedder; but don't quarrel--don't!  Only remember, Massa
+Warren, remember Crookleg to your dyin' day!"
+
+With these words the negro darted off, and was soon lost to sight behind
+the bushes.
+
+Warren stood grating his teeth in impotent rage.
+
+He saw that he had fallen into a trap laid for him by Crookleg.
+
+Nelatu stirred not an inch.
+
+Again young Rody pronounced his name.
+
+"Nelatu!"
+
+"Yes, Nelatu--the brother of Sansuta!  Does not the sight of me turn you
+into stone?  Is your heart so hardened that you do not tremble?"
+
+Warren gave a short, mocking laugh.
+
+"Go away from here," he said; "I owe no account of my actions to any
+one."
+
+"Yes, you owe an account of them to that Great Spirit who is alike your
+God and mine."
+
+"Pah! stand aside, I say."
+
+"My arm will brain you if you move or step!  Nelatu is a chief, and
+_must_ be heard!"
+
+"Well, then, go on."
+
+"You once said you were my friend.  Nelatu tears your friendship from
+his breast and casts it to the wind!  You are an assassin--a thief!
+What answer do you make?"
+
+"I make none."
+
+"You are right; nothing can be said to palliate the crime of falsehood,
+murder, and robbery!  Come along with me."
+
+"Indeed!  Where to?"
+
+"To our chief--to Wacora."
+
+"A prisoner?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And who is to take me?"
+
+"I will."
+
+"You!" retorted Rody, with a sneer.
+
+"Yes; your life was in my hands but a minute ago.  You live only because
+I would not kill you in my sister's presence.  Your very slave has
+proved false to you.  You are in my power; Wacora shall pass sentence on
+you, and that sentence will be death."
+
+With a bound Warren rushed at Nelatu, who, suddenly dropping his rifle,
+grappled with him.
+
+A terrible struggle ensued.
+
+The young men were about equally matched in size and strength, while
+each knew that it was a contest for life or death.
+
+Warren, by his unexpected onset, had at first some advantage over his
+antagonist; but the Indian speedily recovered it by his great power of
+endurance.
+
+All feeling of pity had vanished from his breast.  He had intended to
+take him a prisoner; he would now kill him.
+
+He made several unsuccessful efforts to draw his tomahawk; whilst
+Warren, inspired by the certainty that death would be the result, strove
+to his utmost to prevent him from wielding the weapon.
+
+Long did they continue the struggle without either speaking a word.
+Their heavy breathing, as they rolled over and over on the grass, was
+the only audible sound.
+
+Nelatu at length succeeded in getting his antagonist under him, and with
+one arm strove to hold him, whilst with the other he groped for his
+tomahawk.
+
+At this moment Warren made a superhuman effort, threw the Indian off,
+and, with the speed of lightning, snatched his rifle from the ground.
+
+Nelatu had stumbled as he was thrown off, and lay sprawling upon the
+earth.
+
+Another instant and he would have had a bullet through his body.
+
+Was it an echo that answered the cocking of the rifle held in Rody's
+hand?
+
+That was the last thought that crossed Warren Rody's mind.
+
+The next moment he was a corpse.
+
+A bullet had pierced his brain!
+
+It came from Maracota's gun, who had arrived upon the ground at the
+moment of Nelatu's fall.
+
+Before either of the two Indians could speak a word, a piercing cry
+echoed in upon their ears; a girl came gliding through the bushes, and
+flung herself prostrate over the body.
+
+It was Sansuta!
+
+The air was filled with her lamentations as she kissed the cold forehead
+of Warren Rody, and with a thousand endearing terms endeavoured to
+recall him to life.
+
+Nelatu approached and gently raised her from the ground.
+
+He was about to address her, but he started back in horror.
+
+Her wild, starting eyes, with that unmeaning smile upon her lips, told
+the sad tale.
+
+Her reason had departed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
+
+THE STRUGGLE IN THE STOCKADE.
+
+On that same night the Indians, led by Wacora, stormed the stockade upon
+the hill.
+
+The combat proved long and desperate, but the place was at length taken.
+
+Bravely as the settlers fought, they had a foe to deal with implacable
+and determined.
+
+As fast as the red warriors fell in the attack, others took their
+places, and from out the darkness legions seemed to rise to avenge the
+deaths of their fallen comrades.
+
+The white women loaded the rifles, stood by their brothers and husbands
+assisting them in the fearful strife.
+
+But valour availed not; the settlers were doomed.
+
+Never had Elias Rody been seen to greater advantage.
+
+He seemed ubiquitous, cheering and inspiring the men around him.
+
+Many who had condemned him till then gave him credit for his bravery.
+
+He seemed to bear a charmed life, and was seen where-ever bullets
+whistled, unharmed and undaunted!
+
+All his hopes on earth were centred in successfully maintaining himself;
+and that strong physical courage which he undoubtedly possessed,
+stimulated by his frightful responsibility, made him for the moment
+heroic.
+
+His daughter, the gentle Alice, showed herself equally brave.
+
+She took under her care the wounded men--she who, at any other time,
+would have fainted at the sight of blood--bound up the ghastly wounds,
+and stood on that dreadful night by more than one death-bed, calm and
+courageous, upheld by the sustaining idea.
+
+But what availed courage and devotion against numbers?
+
+The stockade was at length carried, and, after it, the house, which was
+instantly given to the flames.
+
+A horrible carnage ensued amongst those who, unable to fly, were left to
+the besiegers' fury.
+
+The worst passions were displayed in their worst forms, and helplessness
+pleaded in vain to hearts steeled with revenge.
+
+The moon's rays lighted up a fearful scene.
+
+Corpses of Indians and settlers, with their wives and children strewed
+the ground of the enclosure!
+
+The glare of the burning house added to the horror of the sight.
+
+Some few of the colonists fled across the country, pursued by their
+relentless foes.
+
+Though a small number escaped with life, many perished in their flight.
+
+With revengeful cries the Indians sought for Elias Rody, but failed to
+find him.
+
+Had he, too, escaped?
+
+It seemed so, for nowhere could his body be discovered among the slain.
+
+His daughter had also disappeared.
+
+But half of their revenge seemed accomplished, and Wacora felt that,
+with Rody alive, his uncle's death was not yet avenged.
+
+In vain did he send warrior after warrior in search of the missing man.
+
+All returned with the same answer.
+
+The white chief was not to be found!
+
+Enraged at being thus baffled in his revenge, Wacora called his
+straggling forces together, and returned with them to the Indian camp.
+
+After their departure there was profound stillness within the stockade,
+more awful from contrast with the battle there so late raging.
+
+The dead were left to repose in peace.
+
+For a long time this stillness continued unbroken.
+
+Then from afar sounds began to be heard, gradually drawing nearer and
+nearer.
+
+It was the howling of the gaunt Florida wolves as they scented a rich
+repast.
+
+Ere long they could be seen skulking through the enclosure, and
+quarrelling over the corpses upon the plain.  Above them, with shadowy
+wings, the vultures hovered, waiting to come in for their share of the
+spoil.
+
+The moon sank in the sky, and drew a pall over the dreadful sight.
+
+At intervals a flickering tongue of flame shooting up from the expiring
+embers of the burnt house, imparted a weird aspect to the scene,
+lighting it up, only to display its ghastly horrors.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Where was Elias Rody?
+
+He had proved deceitful to the last.
+
+Wacora and his warriors had sought him everywhere, but had failed to
+find him.
+
+For all that he was near.
+
+In the last attack made by the red men, he had been wounded--not
+severely, but sufficiently to make him feel faint and giddy.  He knew
+that he could no longer hope for success, and determined, if possible,
+to save his own life while there was a chance.
+
+Amidst the smoke and confusion he found no difficulty in withdrawing
+from the combat.  Remembering a species of cellar he had caused to be
+dug in the rear of the house, he staggered towards it, and reached it
+unobserved.
+
+He paused before entering.  A thought of Alice arrested him--the thought
+of the hopelessness of saving her, and tottering forward, half-blinded
+by his own blood, he descended the steps of the cellar, at the bottom of
+which he fell insensible to the floor.
+
+The yells of the victorious Indians, the glare of the burning mansion,
+the shrieks of the wounded, and the agonising wail of defenceless women
+and children as they committed their souls to Heaven, Elias Rody, though
+the cause of all this, heard nothing.
+
+Beneath his own burning house, miraculously sheltered by some huge
+timbers which had fallen over the excavation, he lay for a long time
+insensible to thought as to feeling.
+
+When he at length recovered consciousness, and crawled forth from his
+concealment, the sun had risen, lighting up the ruined pile.
+
+He shuddered at the sight.
+
+He suffered a thousand deaths in the contemplation of the horrors his
+mad selfishness had caused.
+
+Bitter remorse, stronger than his shattered physical frame could endure,
+gnawed at his heart.  But it was selfish remorse for all that.
+
+Here was vengeance for Oluski, had the chief only been alive to witness
+it.
+
+Too weak to get away from the spot, Rody groaned in the bitterness of
+his spirit.
+
+"Ten thousand times may I be accursed for all this!  Fool--blind,
+infatuated fool--that I have been.  Every aspiration might have been
+gratified, every hope fulfilled, had not my impatience blinded me
+against caution.  May the fiend of darkness overtake these red--"
+
+How long this tirade of blasphemous repentance of his villainy might
+have lasted it is impossible to say.  It was stopped, however, by a
+physical pain, and with a faint voice, he cried--
+
+"Water! water!"
+
+Blood there was in plenty around him, but not one drop of water.
+
+Others had yelled for it through the long, dreadful night, as
+agonisingly as he, but had been answered by the same solemn silence.
+_They_ had died in their agony.  Why should not he?
+
+"Well, then, let death come!  The full accumulation of mortal torment
+has fallen on myself; it cannot be greater?"
+
+Wrong in this, as in everything else.
+
+See!  Skulking along the brow of the hill, stooping over and examining
+corpse after corpse, with a look of demoniac joy upon his hideous
+features, something in human shape, and yet scarce a man, appears.
+
+Horror of horrors! he is robbing the dead.
+
+Rody saw him not, for he had again fainted.
+
+With a harsh voice, rivalling the vulture's croak, the skulker continued
+his hideous task.
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!" chuckled he to himself, "there am nice pickings after all
+for dis chile, boaf from de bodies of white man and de red.  Bress de
+chances what set 'em agin' each oder!  Oh, but de ole nigger am glad--so
+glad!  But where am he?--where am he?  If dis chile don't find him, why
+den his work ain't more den half done!"
+
+Diligently did Crookleg, for it was he, continue to search, turning over
+dead bodies, snatching some bauble from their breasts, and so passing to
+others, as if still unsatisfied.
+
+For whom was he seeking?
+
+As he proceeded in his work, a voice that came from among a heap of
+ruins, was heard feebly calling for "water!"
+
+The negro started on hearing it, sending forth a shout of triumph.
+
+He had recognised it as the voice of Elias Rody, the man for whom he had
+been searching.
+
+As the latter recovered consciousness, he saw a hideous face close to
+his own, that caused him to start up, at the same time uttering a cry of
+horror.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
+
+AN EXULTING FIEND.
+
+"I has found you, has I?"
+
+"Crookleg!"
+
+"Yes, it am Crookleg."
+
+"A drop of water, for the love of God; a drop of water!"
+
+"If de whole place war a lake, dis chile wouldn't sprinkle you parched
+lips with a drop out ob it."
+
+"What do you mean, Crookleg?"
+
+"Ha! the time I been waitin' for has come at last.  It hab been long,
+but it am come!  Do you know war you son Warren am?"
+
+"Thank heaven! away from this, and in safety."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!  Safe; yes, he am safe enough wid a big bullet through his
+brain!"
+
+Elias Rody, with an effort, raised himself into a sitting posture, and
+glared upon the speaker.
+
+"Dead!"
+
+"Yes, dead; and it war me dat bro't him to it.  Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+"Who are you?  Has hell let loose its fiends to mock me?"
+
+"Perhaps it have.  Who am I?  Don't you know me yet, Rody--_Massa_
+Rody?"
+
+"No, devil!  I know you not.  My son dead--oh, God! what have I done to
+deserve all this?"
+
+"What hab you done?  What hab you not done?  You had done ebery ting
+that de black heart ob a white man do, and de day of recknin' am come at
+last.  So you don't know me, don't you?"
+
+"Away, fiend, and let me die in peace!"
+
+"In peace--no; you shall die as you hab made oders live--in pain!  When
+you can't hear dis nigga's voice plainly, he'll hiss it in at your ear,
+so it may reach your infernal soul, in de last minutes of you life!"
+
+"Who--who are you?"
+
+"I am Reuben, de son of Esther."
+
+"Esther!"
+
+"Yes, Esther, your father's slave.  You was de cause ob her death.  Do
+you know me now?"
+
+Rody groaned.
+
+"Dey call me Crookleg, kase I was lame.  Who made me lame?"
+
+Still no answer.
+
+"It war you dat put de ball in my leg for sport, when you war a boy, and
+I war de same.  I have been close to you for years, but you didn't know
+me.  I war too mean--too much below de notice of a proud gentleman like
+you.  But I hab a good memory, and de oath I'd taken to be even wid ye,
+am kept.  My mother war a slave, but she war my mother for all dat, an'
+if I war a black man I war still a human bein', although you and de
+likes of you didn't think so.  Do you know me now?"
+
+Rody uttered not a word.
+
+"When I war forced to limp away from your father's plantation, I war but
+a boy, but de boy had de same hate for de cruel massa dat de lame nigga
+hab now for Elias Rody.  Days and years hab passed since den, but de
+hate war kept hot as ever; and I'se happy now when I knows dat de dyin'
+planter am at de mercy of de mean slave.  Don't be skear'd, I wouldn't
+lift dis hand to help you eider die or live.  All I'se a going to do is
+to sit hyar an' watch ober you till you am cold and stiff.  Every
+flutter you wicked soul makes to get free from you ugly body, will be a
+joy to me!"
+
+"Oh, devil!" exclaimed the wounded man, in the depth of his agony.
+
+"Debbil!  Yes, I is a debbil, and you has made me one!"
+
+The negro, as he said this, knelt down by Rody's side and thrust his
+face close up to that of the dying man, while a demoniac joy lit up his
+horrid features.
+
+And he continued to gaze upon his victim until the grey shadow of
+dissolution stole over his countenance, the senses wandered, and the
+once bright eyes were becoming dimmed with the film of death.
+
+At last a scream burst from the lips of the dying man, followed by words
+of piteous appeal.
+
+"Ha--help--water--water!  My soul's on fire!  Devils--demons!  Away--
+away!  Let me go!  Unloose your burning hands from my heart!  Unloose--
+ah, horror!"
+
+The cries ceased.
+
+Elias Rody was dead!
+
+Remorselessly did the negro glare upon his expiring enemy as he uttered
+these last frantic speeches, and when, at last, the spirit had passed
+away, he bounded to his feet and began to exult over his now unconscious
+victim.
+
+At this moment another personage appeared upon the scene.
+
+At some little distance from the spot a man, leaning upon his rifle,
+stood taking a survey of the smoking ruins.
+
+He had been for some time ignorant that any living being but himself was
+upon the hill.
+
+His attention was now called to Crookleg, who, assured of his enemy's
+death, could no longer restrain his immense joy, but was giving vent to
+it in cries and fantastic caperings.
+
+"Ho, ho--dead!  It am 'plendid sport to de ole nigga!  Only to tink dat
+dis poor ole lame darkey hab been de cause ob a war 'tween de whites and
+de red-skins!  Ha, ha, ha! it am most too good to be beliebed!  But it
+am true--it am true!"
+
+As the monstrous creature concluded the speech he was seen to spring
+suddenly into the air and fall flat upon his face--a corpse!
+
+A long hunting-knife had penetrated his back!
+
+"There, ye black hound!  If you have been the cause of one war, you'll
+never have a hand in another.  I swore not to fight agin my own blood,
+nor to take part agin the red-skins, but black blood don't count in my
+bargain!"
+
+Saying this, Cris Carrol drew his blade from the negro's body and coolly
+sauntered away from the spot.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY.
+
+ROBBED OF HIS REVENGE.
+
+Wacora, after reaching the camp, dismissed his warriors, and entered his
+tent alone.
+
+The remainder of that night he passed in meditation.
+
+Was it the influence of the white blood flowing in his veins that made
+him think of the slaughter he had directed and taken part in?
+
+Strange inconsistency of nature.
+
+The heroic chief, still decked in the war paint of his father's race, as
+he reviewed the events of the past few hours, could not restrain himself
+from shuddering.
+
+His mother's spirit seemed to hover around him; her eyes sad and
+reproachful; her heart heavy.
+
+"They were the people of my race, and so of yours, that you have
+immolated on the throne of your vengeance."
+
+So seemed it to say!
+
+His head sank upon his breast.  He sighed heavily.
+
+Long he continued in his gloomy abstraction; his thoughts deeper than
+plummet ever sounded.
+
+The weary hours of night crept slowly past, and yet he stirred not.
+
+Fears and forebodings filled his warrior's heart.
+
+"I have done all for the best," muttered he to himself.  "Witness it,
+thou Great Spirit; all for the best.  For the future of my father's race
+I have closed my heart to pity.  It was not for present vengeance alone
+that I urged on the wild people to the slaughter.  It was that they
+might then begin the great work of regeneration, assured in their
+strength, and conscious of their invincibility."
+
+Like all high-strung natures, Wacora was subject to fits of despondency.
+
+With want of action this had come upon him.  The excitement over, gloomy
+doubt had succeeded to bright hope.
+
+The sun was high in the heavens ere he could bestir himself, and shake
+off such thoughts.  He at length made the effort, and emerged from his
+tent to consult with the warriors of his tribe.
+
+As he stepped forth, he perceived Maracota slowly approaching.
+
+In an instant the slumbering passion of hate was awakened; he saw in the
+young Indian's eye that he had news to communicate.
+
+Speak! have you found him?
+
+"Yes, he is found."
+
+"I mean Warren Rody.  Make no error, Maracota--tell me, is it Warren
+Rody you have found?"
+
+"He has been found."
+
+"Then all is well.  Quick! bring him to me.  Let me look upon this dog
+of a pale-face!"
+
+Maracota made no answer, but stood silent.
+
+"Do you hear me?  Bring the dog before me.  My eyes hunger for a sight
+of his craven countenance--I would see his white-livered face of fear--
+watch his trembling frame as he stands in my presence!"
+
+Still Maracota did not speak.
+
+"By the Great Spirit, Maracota, why do you not go for him?  Why do you
+not answer me?"
+
+"Maracota dreads your anger."
+
+"You an Indian warrior, and afraid.  What do you mean?"
+
+"That I have disobeyed your commands--"
+
+"Ha! wretch!  I understand.  You found him, but he escaped."
+
+"Not that--"
+
+"What is it then?  Speak, did he defy you?  Was he too powerful?  Then
+summon our warriors, and if it cost the life of every Indian in Florida
+I swear he shall be captured.  Answer me or I shall do you mischief."
+
+"Maracota deserves punishment."
+
+The young chief, now fully aroused to anger, cast a significant look at
+his subordinate; he could scarce refrain from striking him to the
+ground, and it was with an effort that he resumed speech--
+
+"No more mystery.  Speak! where is he?"
+
+"Dead."
+
+Wacora made a bound towards the speaker, as he cried, "Did _you_ kill
+him?"
+
+"I did."
+
+Maracota fearlessly stood to await the stroke of the upraised tomahawk.
+
+It fell, but not on the Indian's skull.
+
+Wacora flung his weapon on the grass.
+
+"Wretch!" he cried, "you have robbed me of my revenge.  May the arm that
+took that man's life hang palsied by your side for ever!  May--oh, curse
+you--curse you!"
+
+Maracota's head fell upon his breast.  He dared not meet his chief's
+angry glance--more dreaded than the blow of his hatchet.
+
+For some moments there was silence; whilst Wacora paced to and fro like
+a tiger in its cage.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
+
+A SAD SPECTACLE.
+
+After a time the enraged chief, pausing in his steps, stood by the side
+of the silent warrior.
+
+"Tell me how it happened," he said, apparently becoming calmer.  "Tell
+me all."
+
+Maracota related the circumstances as they had happened.
+
+"It was to save Nelatu's life that you fired upon the monster?"
+
+"It was."
+
+"And he--where is Nelatu?"
+
+"He is close by.  See, they come this way."
+
+As Wacora looked in the direction indicated, he perceived his two
+cousins approaching.
+
+The beautiful maiden, now wan and sad, seemed absorbed in the
+contemplation of some wild flowers which she held in her hand.  There
+were others wreathed in her hair.
+
+In this manner had she been conducted to the camp.
+
+Nelatu turned to his sister, put his arm in hers, and was about to lead
+her off, when a man rushed into the presence of the chief, crying out as
+he approached--
+
+"Good news!  The body of the white chief, Rody, has been found, and--"
+
+The warning gesture had been lost upon the impatient speaker.
+
+It was too late now, Sansuta had heard the fated name.
+
+Casting from her the flowers she had been trifling with, she uttered
+shriek upon shriek, running wildly and beseechingly, backwards and
+forwards, from her brother to her cousin, who both stood spell-bound
+with surprise and grief.
+
+"Where have you hid him?  Give him to me.  You shall not kill him; no--
+no--no!  I say you shall not hurt him!  Warren!  Warren! 'tis Sansuta
+calls.  Murderers!  He never injured you.  Take nay life--not his!
+Warren!  Warren!  Oh, do not keep him from me.  See, that is his blood
+upon your hands--his eyes are closed in death!  It is you, wretches,
+that have murdered him.  No, no--stand back--I would not have you touch
+me whilst your hands are red with his blood.  Back! back!  I will find
+him!--No, you shall kill me first!--I will find Warren Rody!  Help,
+help! save me from his murderers!"
+
+With renewed screams of agony that struck horror into the listeners'
+hearts, the girl, eluding their grasp, darted away into the forest.
+
+At a signal from Wacora, Nelatu started in pursuit.
+
+"May the lightnings blast all who have brought about this!  Fool that I
+was just now to feel pity for the pale-faces; nothing that revenge can
+accomplish will make up for this.  Here I swear to take vengeance far
+more terrible--vengeance to which that of last night shall be but a
+mockery!"
+
+With these words the young chief hastened away from the spot, followed
+by Maracota and the messenger.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
+
+"SPARE HER!  SPARE HER!"
+
+The opportunity of this vengeance was already close at hand.
+
+Within the space enclosed by the Indian tents, under guard of some
+warriors, stood a group of pale-face prisoners.
+
+It consisted of several men, and among them a young girl.
+
+Wacora stopped on perceiving the group.
+
+His features were illumined with a savage joy.
+
+One of the chiefs, advancing, reported their having been captured while
+attempting to escape through the adjoining forest.
+
+"What's to be done with them?" he asked.
+
+"They shall die by torture!"
+
+"The girl?"
+
+"She, too, shall die.  Who is she?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Turning to Maracota, he propounded a similar question.
+
+Maracota was equally ignorant of the person of the captive.
+
+The chief ordered her to be brought before him.
+
+With an undaunted step, although evidently suffering from debility and
+sorrow, the girl allowed herself to be led along.
+
+Once in Wacora's presence, with a modest courage, she gazed into his
+face.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked.
+
+"Your prisoner."
+
+"When where you captured?"
+
+"About two hours ago."
+
+"You were trying to escape?"
+
+"I was."
+
+"Your companions--who are they?"
+
+"I know nothing of them, except that they are people belonging to the
+settlement.  They were kind to me, and endeavoured to help me in my
+escape."
+
+"You know your doom?"
+
+She answered, sadly--
+
+"I expect no mercy."
+
+Wacora, struck with this reply, felt an interest in the courageous girl,
+which he could not account for.
+
+"You have been taught to think of the red man as a remorseless savage?"
+
+"Not as remorseless, only as revengeful."
+
+"Then you acknowledge that we have just cause for revengeful feelings?"
+
+"I did not say so."
+
+"But you implied it."
+
+"All men have enemies.  The truly great are the only ones who can forego
+revenge."
+
+"But savages must act according to their instincts."
+
+"Savages--yes.  But men who know right from wrong should act by their
+judgment."
+
+"If I spared your life, you would still consider me a savage."
+
+"My life is nothing to me.  All those I loved are now dead."
+
+"Your mother?"
+
+"She died when I was a child."
+
+"Your father?"
+
+"Was killed last night."
+
+Wacora seemed lost in thought as he said, half aside--
+
+"So young, and yet with no fear of death!"
+
+The young girl overheard the muttered soliloquy, and made answer to it--
+
+"To the unhappy death is welcome."
+
+"Unhappy?"
+
+"I have told you that all I love are dead?"
+
+"Yet death is terrible."
+
+"Your name?"
+
+"Alice Rody."
+
+With a cry of fiendish delight, Wacora grasped the maiden's arm.
+
+"You, the daughter of that accursed man--the daughter of that demon in
+human form!  Then, by the Great Spirit above us! by the ashes of my
+ancestors, you shall die!  My own hand shall inflict the blow."
+
+As he uttered these words, he drew a knife from his belt, and was on the
+point of sheathing it in her heart, when his arm was seized, and a voice
+full of agony vibrated in his ear--
+
+"Spare her!--oh! spare her.  Take my life instead."
+
+"Nelatu!"
+
+"Yes, Nelatu; your cousin, your slave, if you will--only spare her
+life!"
+
+"You forget her name."
+
+"No, no; I know it but too well."
+
+"You forget that her father has been the accursed cause of all this
+misery?"
+
+"No; I remember that too."
+
+"Then you are insane thus to beg for her life.  She must die!"
+
+"I am not insane.  Oh!  Wacora, on my knees I implore you to spare her!"
+
+"Rise, Nelatu; the son of Oluski should not bend his knee to man.  At
+your intercession, her life shall be spared!"
+
+Nelatu rose from the ground.
+
+"You are indeed our chief, Wacora.  Your heart is open and generous."
+
+"Stay, yet, before you mistake me.  I give you her life, but `an eye for
+an eye!'  She shall suffer what Sansuta has suffered; spare her life,
+but not her honour."
+
+"Wacora!"
+
+"I have said it.  Here"--turning to the assembled warriors who had been
+amazed witnesses of the scene--"this is the child of our enemy, Elias
+Rody.  I have, at Nelatu's entreaty, spared her life; I bestow her upon
+the tribe; do with her what you will."
+
+Nelatu leaped before the advancing braves.
+
+"Back!" he cried.  "The first who lays hands upon her, dies!"
+
+Wacora gazed upon his cousin.
+
+In his breast rage contended with wonder.
+
+"Heed him not; he is insane."
+
+"No; not insane."
+
+"Speak; what then?"
+
+"I love her!  I love her!"
+
+The young girl, who had stood like a statue throughout all the previous
+scene, gave a start, and, cowering to the ground, buried her face in her
+hands.
+
+To Wacora the words of Nelatu were no less surprising.
+
+Turning to the shrinking maiden, he said--
+
+"You hear what Nelatu says?  He loves you."
+
+She murmured faintly--"I hear."
+
+"He loves you.  Wacora, too, has loved.  That love has been trampled
+upon, and by your wretch of a brother!  Yet still it shall plead for
+Nelatu.  His request is granted.  You are spared both life and honour,
+but must remain a prisoner.  Conduct her hence!"
+
+"And these?" asked a warrior, pointing to the other prisoners.
+
+Wacora's heart, touched for an instant by his cousin's pleading, as well
+as by Alice Rody's heroic bearing, became again hardened.
+
+He replied--
+
+"They must die!  Not by the torture, but at once.  Let them be shot!"
+
+The brave fellows, disdaining to sue for mercy, were led away from the
+spot.
+
+Soon after he heard several shots that came echoing from the woods.
+
+His captives had been released from all earthly care.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
+
+RUIN AMONG THE RUINS.
+
+The Indians' encampment near Tampa Bay was broken up.
+
+The women and children, attended by a few warriors had departed for the
+town.
+
+Alice Rody, a prisoner, went along with them.
+
+Wacora, Nelatu, and the rest of the tribe, joined others of their race
+in the war which was now rapidly spreading over the whole peninsula.
+
+For a time the Seminole tribe led a wandering life.
+
+The varying successes or defeats of the protracted contest entailed upon
+them both vigilance and activity.
+
+It was, therefore, only occasionally that the cousins were enabled to
+visit the town in which their people permanently resided.
+
+Sansuta had now seldom any relapses of her fits of violent madness.
+
+She was silent and melancholy, and wandered about wrapped in her own
+bewildered thoughts.
+
+Alice, although a prisoner, was suffered to come and go as it pleased
+her.
+
+Nelatu's love for the pale-faced maiden made no progress.
+
+A wan smile was all the reward the Indian youth received for his patient
+devotion.
+
+He felt that his passion was hopeless, but still he nursed it.
+
+To Sansuta, Alice indeed proved a guardian angel.
+
+At first the Indian girl repelled the tender solicitude expressed by the
+white maiden, and with an alarmed look seemed to dread even her voice.
+
+In time, however, won by the magic of kindness, she sought the company
+of the captive, and in her presence seemed happy.
+
+Often they would stroll away from the town, and in some quiet spot pass
+hours together--Alice in silent thought, Sansuta in such childish
+employment as stringing beads, or making baskets with the flowers and
+tendrils of the wild vine.
+
+A favourite haunt with them both was the old fort.
+
+Amongst its ruins they would seat themselves in silence, each busy with
+her own thoughts.
+
+And thus was their time tranquilly passed, while war was raging around
+them.
+
+But the first storm of conflict had been passed, and was succeeded by a
+temporary calm.
+
+The pale-faces had abandoned the smaller settlements and detached
+plantations, and in the neighbouring towns awaited the arrival of the
+Government troops on their way to prosecute the campaign throughout the
+whole peninsula.
+
+The Indians had sought their respective rendezvous, there to mature
+plans for a more perfect organisation.
+
+Nelatu and Wacora had returned home, for such was the title Wacora now
+gave to the place where Oluski's tribe had their permanent residence.
+
+The exigencies of the contest had compelled the withdrawal of his own
+warriors from his father's town, and the two tribes, Oluski and his own,
+had become fused into one powerful community.
+
+The chief's views towards his captive had undergone a marked change.
+
+He no longer wished to harm her, and had she demanded from him her
+liberty, he would have granted it freely.
+
+Of what use is liberty to the homeless?
+
+Alice Rody had become careless of her freedom--nay, in a manner,
+preferred her captivity to the uncertainty of an unknown future, where
+no kindred awaited her return, no friend stood expectant to receive her.
+
+A sense of security--almost contentment--had stolen into her heart.
+
+Time had done much to assuage the terrible sorrow from which she had
+suffered.
+
+It was a wonderful transformation to the once high-spirited girl who had
+shown such energy and fortitude in the midst of danger.
+
+So thought the young chief, Wacora.
+
+To Nelatu it was a negative happiness.  She had not energy to chide his
+ardent devotion, but submitted to it passively, without bestowing the
+slightest encouragement.
+
+One lovely afternoon Sansuta, conducted by Alice, strolled to the ruined
+fort.
+
+Arrived there, Sansuta proceeded to embroider a pouch she had commenced
+to make.
+
+Alice, seated on a fragment of stone, watched her companion's trivial
+employment.
+
+As the Indian girl nestled close to the pale-faced maiden, she seemed on
+the point of fainting.
+
+She had grown thinner during the last few weeks, and her hollow cheeks
+were tinted with a hectic flush.
+
+"Rest your head on my lap, Sansuta."
+
+As Alice spoke, she gently caught the poor girl in her arms.
+
+"I am tired, oh, so tired!" said Sansuta.
+
+"You must not walk so far as this another time.  We must seek some place
+nearer to the town."
+
+The Indian girl did not appear to heed her, but commenced singing softly
+to herself.
+
+She paused abruptly in her song, and looked up into her companion's
+face.
+
+"Last night I dreamed I was in another land, walking along a footpath.
+It was strewn with lovely flowers.  On both sides were beautiful
+creeping plants, over which bright butterflies sailed.  There were two
+birds--such birds--their plumage of silver and gold.  I heard music.
+Was it the land of the Great Spirit?  Do you think it was?"
+
+"Who knows? it might have been!"
+
+"There I met my father.  Not stern as our warriors are, but sad and
+weeping.  Why did he weep?"
+
+Alice was silent.  Her own tears hindered her from making answer to the
+artless question.
+
+"When I saw him weeping, I, too, wept, and kissed him.  He spoke kindly
+to me; but why did he weep?"
+
+Still no answer from her listening companion.
+
+"Then I dreamt--no, I cannot remember what else I dreamt--yet there was
+some one else there.  I seemed to know his face, too; but a great storm
+arose, and all became dark, and I grew frightened.  What was that?"
+
+"Alas!  Sansuta, I cannot read my own dreams, far less yours."
+
+But Sansuta had already forgotten her question, and was again singing
+softly to herself.
+
+Presently she stopped once more, and putting both arms around Alice's
+neck, murmured that she was tired.
+
+The pale-faced maiden kissed her, and, as she did so, the tears from her
+eyes fell on Sansuta's cheek.
+
+"Why do you weep?  Who has injured you?"
+
+Had Alice framed her thoughts into words she would have answered, the
+whole world; but, instead, she only replied to her companion with gentle
+endearments, and, at length, caressed her into a gentle sleep.
+
+It was a beautiful tableaux for a painter to delineate--beautiful--but
+at the same time sadly impressive.
+
+A young Indian chief, who had been a silent witness to it, must have
+thought so, by the sigh that escaped him, as he turned his face away.
+
+Wacora was the chief who thus sighed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.
+
+STRANGE CHANGES.
+
+Wacora's love for Sansuta had long since changed into pity.
+
+A new feeling now possessed his heart.
+
+A new love had arisen from the ashes of the past:
+
+Alice Rody was the object!
+
+He had at first been struck with admiration at her courage; afterwards
+he had witnessed her discretion and tenderness, and then noted her
+beauty.
+
+His thoughts, thus stirred; soon ripened into a passion far stronger
+than respect.
+
+Pity and love had exchanged places within his bosom.
+
+He and his captive had done the same.
+
+The girl was free; her gaoler had become her prisoner.
+
+This new phase of feeling was not accomplished suddenly.
+
+It grew silently and slowly but surely.
+
+One thought troubled Wacora.
+
+It was Nelatu's admiration for Alice Rody.
+
+He saw that she cared not for his cousin, but he forebore to urge his
+suit, out of compassion for Sansuta's brother.
+
+His love, therefore, was speechless, and his captive was unconscious of
+it.
+
+But what of her?  She, too, had changed.
+
+By one of those marvellous transformations of which the human heart is
+capable, Alice Rody not only became reconciled to her residence among
+the Indians, but even found much that interested her, even to the
+awakening of pleasant thoughts.
+
+Many of the Seminoles were, as has been stated, well educated, and with
+education had come the usual chastening influence.
+
+This was especially true of the young chief Wacora, and she had not
+failed to observe it.
+
+Her first reflection was what he might have been had he been brought up
+amongst her own race, for, although she had not been told of his mother
+being a white woman, she did not doubt that he had white blood in his
+veins.
+
+What might not a man of his intelligence, chivalric courage, and purity
+of thought have become in a society where civilisation would have
+developed all these mental qualities?
+
+The question was a natural one when viewing only the advantages which
+high culture presented; but its obverse was unfavourable, when
+considering that civilisation is often an approach to barbarism through
+selfishness and rapacity.
+
+She answered the query herself, and favourably for him.  This mental
+questioning once commenced, did not pause, but went on to farther
+consideration of the character of the young chief.
+
+His thoughtfulness seemed as much sprung from regret at the compulsory
+warfare he was waging against her race, as the noble enthusiasm with
+which his soul was filled.
+
+The heart of a woman easily yielded its admiration to an enthusiast!
+
+The motive may be condemned, but the spiritual essence of thought that
+prompts to action still remains to be admired.
+
+It will then be seen that the first abhorrence had given place to
+interest; and interest had ripened into--
+
+Into what?
+
+There was no answer to that question.  As it came before Alice Rody's
+mind she evaded it, and strove calmly to consider Wacora as her captor.
+
+But it soon seemed impossible to look upon him in this light.
+
+No _preux chevalier_ could be more courteous in his bearing--no prince
+more calmly conscious of his own birthright.
+
+His was of the oldest patent.  Whether thinking so or not, he was one of
+Nature's noblemen.
+
+A few months had wrought these marvellous changes in the personages of
+our tale, and upon Wacora's sudden departure to the scene of war, both
+he and his captive felt a strange void in their hearts, unaccountable,
+because novel.
+
+Nelatu, whose hope of winning the regard of the pale-faced maiden had
+sunk into a calm state of despair, departed with his cousin, hoping that
+in the field of battle he might find a still calmer rest.
+
+His fate, wrapt in the dark mystery of the future, was veiled from him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
+
+A PEACEFUL WARNING.
+
+The summer had waned into autumn.
+
+With the changing season came also a change over the hapless Indian
+maiden, Sansuta.
+
+Her weakness, which had been continually increasing, was now so great
+that she could no longer stray with Alice to their favourite haunts.
+
+The poor girl's form had wasted away, and her features become shrunken.
+Her dark, lustrous eyes alone seemed to retain their vitality.
+
+All her former violence had disappeared, and a change had also made
+itself manifest in her mental condition.
+
+Now and then she had lucid moments of thought, during which she would
+shed torrents of tears on Alice's shoulder, only with the return of her
+malady would she appear happy and at peace.
+
+Towards sunset of a lovely day the two girls sat together at the door of
+Sansuta's dwelling.
+
+"See!" said the Indian girl, "the flowers are closing, the birds have
+gone into the deep forest.  I have been expecting some one, but he has
+not come yet.  Do you know who it is?"
+
+"No, I do not."
+
+"'Tis Warren.  Why do you start and tremble?  He will not hurt you.  Who
+was it you thought I meant?"
+
+"I cannot tell, dear Sansuta."
+
+"No one but him--I think of him always, although," she added lowering
+her voice to a whisper, "I dare not call his name.  I'm afraid to do
+that.  I'm afraid of my brother Nelatu and my cousin Wacora.  Why does
+the sun look so fiery?  It is the colour of blood--blood--blood!  That
+red colour, is it on _your_ hands, too?  Ah, no!  _You_ are no
+murderer!"
+
+"Hush, Sansuta! you are excited."
+
+"Ah, yonder sun!  Do you know that I feel as if it were the last time I
+should ever see it set.  See, there are dark lines across the sky--
+ribbed with bands of black clouds.  It is the last day--the last day--"
+
+"I see nothing, only the approach of night."
+
+"But you hear something.  Don't you hear the spirits singing their death
+march over Oluski's grave?  He was my father--I hear it.  It is a
+summons.  It is for me.  I must go."
+
+"Go?  Where?"
+
+"Far away.  No; it is of no use clasping me to your heart.  It is not
+Sansuta's body that will leave you--it is her spirit.  In the happy
+hunting grounds I shall meet with him--"
+
+A few moments after she became tranquil; but the lucid interval
+succeeded, and hot tears coursed down her hollow cheeks.
+
+Again her mind wandered, and for two or three hours, refusing to enter
+the house, she sate muttering to herself the same fancies.
+
+Alice could but sit beside her and listen.  Now and then she sought to
+soothe her, but in vain.
+
+By and bye Sansuta's voice grew faint.  She seemed to lean heavier on
+the arm of her pale-faced friend, and the lustre of her eye gradually
+became dimmer.
+
+The change was alarming, and Alice would have risen and called for help,
+but an imploring glance from Sansuta prevented her.
+
+"Don't leave me," she murmured gently.
+
+Her voice was changed; she had recovered reason, and her companion
+perceived it.
+
+"Do not leave me.  I shall not detain you long.  I know you now--have
+known you it seems for years.  I know all, for there is peace in my
+heart towards all, even to those who took his life.  Forgiveness has
+come back with reason, and my last prayers shall be that they who made
+Sansuta unhappy may be forgiven!"
+
+She spoke in so low a voice that it was with difficulty her companion
+could hear what she said.
+
+"Kiss me, Alice Rody!  Speak to me!  Let me hear you say that Sansuta
+was your friend!"
+
+"Was--_is_ my friend!"
+
+"No--let me say _was_, for I am about to leave you.  The time is come; I
+am ready!  My last prayer is `Pity and forgiveness!  Pity and--'"
+
+By the gentle motion of her lips she appeared to be praying.
+
+That motion ceased, and with it her unhappy life!
+
+Alice still continued to hold her in her arms long after her soul had
+passed into Eternity!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.
+
+THE BURNT SHANTY.
+
+The ghost of Crookleg did not in any way disturb Cris Carrol, either
+sleeping or awake.
+
+The worthy backwoodsman believed that he had done a highly meritorious
+action in for ever disposing of that malevolent individual.
+
+"The infernal black skunk, to be cuttin' his capers over the bodies of
+brave men who had laid down their lives in a war he, and sich as he,
+brought about!  It were no more nor an act of justice to send him to
+everlastin' perdition, and, if I never done a more valuable thing to
+society than stickin' three inches of cold steel atween his two
+shoulder-blades, I think I desarves the thanks of the hul community."
+
+This consolation Cris indulged in whenever he thought of that terrible
+episode upon Tampa hill.
+
+He had returned a few days after the massacre and had found the dead
+decently buried.
+
+Wacora had commanded it to be done.
+
+The charred ruins of Rody's house, however, recalled the memory of that
+eventful night.
+
+For some time after his last visit to Tampa Bay, Cris Carrol had not
+been seen.
+
+Neither the pale-faces nor the redskins had been able to discover his
+whereabouts.
+
+The truth is, that the backwoodsman was glad to get away from scenes
+where so much violence had been done to his feelings.
+
+As he had said, he _couldn't_ fight against the Indians, and he
+_wouldn't_ take up arms against the whites.
+
+"It ain't in human nature to shoot and stab one's own sort, even when
+they're in the wrong, unless they'd done somethin' agin oneself; an'
+that they hain't done as regards me.  I'll be eternally dog-goned if I
+think the red-skins are to blame for rising agin oppression and tyranny,
+which is what old Rody did to them, to say nothin' agin him now he's
+dead, but to speak the truth, and that's bad enough for him.  No, they
+war not to blame for what they did, arter his conduct to them--the old
+cuss; who, bad as he war, had one redeemin' feature in his karactur, and
+that war his angeliferous darter.  Where kin she have gone a hidin'?
+Thet puzzles this chile, it do."
+
+Cris was unaware of Alice's capture and imprisonment.
+
+As suddenly as he had taken his departure from Tampa, Cris returned to
+the same neighbourhood.  He expected the war to be transferred to a more
+distant point, and wished still to keep out of the way.
+
+"It's the durned'st fightin' I ever heard on," said he to himself;
+"first it's here, then it's there, and then it ain't nowhere, till it
+breaks out all over again, where it was before, and they're as far off
+the end as I am from Greenland.  Durn it, I never knowed nothin' like
+it."
+
+On his return to Tampa, he found the country around altogether deserted.
+Most of the buildings and the planter's house had been destroyed, even
+his own wretched hut had been burnt to the ground.
+
+"This is what they call the fortun' of war, I 'spose?" he remarked, as
+he stood gazing at the ruins.  "Wal, it war a ramshackle, crazy ole
+shanty anyhow, and I allers despised four walls an' a roof at the best
+o' times--still it war `home.'  Pshaw!" he added, after a moment's
+silence, "what have I to grow molloncholly about, over sich a place as
+this--calling it `home,' when I still have the Savannas to hunt over an'
+sleep upon.  If thar's such a place as home for me that's it, and no
+other."
+
+For all his stoicism, the old hunter sighed as he turned from the
+blackened spot which marked the site of his former dwelling.
+
+He paused at the bend of the road, where Crookleg had first met Nelatu,
+to gaze again at his ruined home.  Not only paused, but sat down upon
+the self-same rail that the negro had perched upon, and from gazing upon
+it, fell to reflecting.
+
+So absorbed was he in his contemplation, that contrary to his usual
+custom, he took no note of the time, nor once removed his eyes from the
+subject of his thoughts.
+
+He did not perceive the approach of a danger.
+
+It came in the form of four individuals who had silently and stealthily
+crept close to the spot where he was sitting.  Before he knew of their
+proximity, he was their prisoner.
+
+"Red-skins!" he exclaimed, struggling to free himself.
+
+His captors smiled grimly at his vain efforts.
+
+"By the eternal!  I'm fixed this time!  Darn my stupid carcase for not
+havin' eyes set in the back o' my head.  Wal, you may grin, old
+copper-skins, it's your turn now--maybe, it'll be mine next.  What are
+you a-doin' now?"
+
+Without deigning a reply the Indians bound his arms securely behind him.
+
+That done they made signs to him to follow them.
+
+"Wal, gentlemen!" said Cris, "yur about as silent a party as a man might
+wish to meet, darn me, if you aint.  I'm comin'."
+
+"Much obleeged to you for your escort, which I ked a done without.
+Thanks to your red-skin perliteness for nothin'.  Go ahead, I kin walk
+without your helpin' me.  Where are ye bound for?"
+
+"To the chief," answered one of the men.
+
+"The chief!  What chief?"
+
+"Wacora."
+
+Cris uttered an emphatic oath.
+
+"Wacora, eh?  If that's the case, I reckon the days o' Cris Carrol air
+drawin' to a close.  The fiercest and most 'vengeful cuss of them all,
+I've heard say.  Lead on, I'll go along with ye willin, but not
+cheerful.  If they kill me like a man I'll not tremble in a jint; but if
+it's the torture--there, go ahead.  Don't keep the party waitin'."
+
+Brave heart, as he was, he followed them with as bold and free a step to
+what he believed to be his death, as if alone, and at liberty on the
+Savanna.
+
+The Indians without exchanging a word, either among themselves or with
+him, proceeded in the direction of Oluski's town.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
+
+DEATH AT THE STAKE.
+
+At night they encamped in the forest.
+
+Lighting no fires, lest the light might betray them to their enemies,
+they produced from their packs some dried meat and meal cake.
+
+Cris did full justice to the humble fare, although he made rather a wry
+face at the gourd of spring water with which he was invited by his
+captors to wash down the frugal repast.
+
+Mastering his aversion, he, however, managed to swallow a few mouthfuls.
+
+Supper over, two of his captors wrapped themselves up in their blankets,
+and immediately fell asleep.  The other two remained awake, watching
+him.
+
+Carrol saw that any attempt to escape under the eyes of two Indians
+would be idle.
+
+One he might have coped with, even unarmed as he was.  Two would be more
+than a match for him, and he knew that on the slightest alarm the
+sleeping men would awake, making it four to one.
+
+With the philosophy of a stoic he threw himself upon the ground, and
+also fell asleep.
+
+He awoke once in the night to find that his guard had been changed.
+There was no better prospect of freedom than before.
+
+"Dura them! they're bound to fix me, I kin see that plain enough.
+Besides, with these 'tarnal all-fired thongs cuttin' into my elbows,
+what could I do?"
+
+Apparently nothing, for with a muttered curse at his own stupidity, he
+again composed himself to slumber.
+
+With the dawn of morning Cris Carrol and his captors continued their
+journey.
+
+They made no other halt before reaching the town.
+
+Carrol in vain tried to draw from them the reason of their unexpected
+presence at so great a distance from the residence of the tribe.
+
+They gave him no satisfaction.
+
+He discovered, however, that whatever errand they had been sent on, they
+had failed in accomplishing it, and his own capture began to be
+considered by him as a peace offering with which they intended to
+mollify Wacora's wrath at their want of success in the mission with
+which they had been charged.
+
+"Wal," reflected he, "I suppose I'm in some poor devil's place; perhaps
+I mout take more pleasure in doing him this good turn if I only knowed
+who he is.  No doubt he's got some folks as 'ud grieve over him, but
+there ain't a many as will fret over Cris Carrol, not as I know on--yes,
+all right! go ahead.  Let's go whar glory waits us, ye catawampous
+scamps, you.  Ah! four to one; if it had been two to one, or, at a
+pinch, three to one, I'd have tried it on, if it had cost me all I've
+got, and that's my life--yah! it's almost enough to make one turn
+storekeeper to think on't."
+
+Unmoved by the taunts and jeers which Cris liberally bestowed upon them
+during the journey, the Indians continued to watch him narrowly.
+
+It was about mid-day when they arrived at their destination.
+
+On entering the Indian town Carrol was thrust into one of the houses,
+where he was left to await the order of Wacora as to his final
+disposition.  Four guards were kept over him, two inside the house, the
+other two without.
+
+He expected immediate death, but he was left undisturbed for the rest of
+the day, and at night received some supper, consisting of dried meat,
+bread, and water.  He was then permitted to pass the hours till morning
+as seemed best to him.
+
+The hunter soon arranged his plans.  He wrapped the blanket that had
+been given him around his body, and in a few moments was in a sound
+slumber.
+
+His sleep lasted until a hand upon his shoulder, along with a summons to
+awake, aroused him.
+
+It was one of his guards of yesterday who addressed him.
+
+"Come!"
+
+"Is that you, old Dummy?" asked he, recognising the Indian.  "I can't
+say I'm glad to see yur, since yur've broke in on the pleasantest dream
+I've had for a long time.  But never mind, how shed you know that you
+whar a doing it, you poor savage critter you, that don't know nothin'
+but to handle a tomahawk, and raise the hair off a human head?  What do
+you want with me now?"
+
+"The warriors are assembled!"
+
+"Air they?  Wal, that's kind of them, only they needn't have put
+themselves out o' the way to get up so early on my account; I could ha'
+waited."
+
+"Come."
+
+"Wal, I'm comin'; d'ye think I'm afraid, durn yur?  D'ye think I'm
+afraid of you or all the warriors of your tribe, or of your chief,
+Wacora, either?"
+
+"Wacora is not here."
+
+"Not here!  Where is he?"
+
+"I cannot answer the pale-face's questions.  I came to bring you before
+the council."
+
+"Wal, I'm ready to go afore the council."
+
+As they were about to emerge from the house, a sudden idea seemed to
+strike Carrol, and he stopped his conductors.
+
+"Stay, friend, will you tell me one thing?"
+
+"Speak!"
+
+"Whar are we?"
+
+"At Oluski's town."
+
+Carrol's face beamed with a sudden joy.
+
+"And his son Nelatu--is this _his_ home?"
+
+"It is."
+
+"Hurray!  Now, I dare say you wonder at my bein' struck all of a heap
+wi' delight.  But I'll tell you one thing, red-skin--no offence, not
+knowin' your name--you and yur three partners have taken a most uncommon
+sight o' trouble all for nothin'."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Just this--go and tell Nelatu that Cris Carrol is the party as you
+sneaked up to and took prisoner, and arter that, streak it for your
+precious lives."
+
+"Nelatu?"
+
+"Yes, Nelatu, he's a friend o' this ole coon, and one that'll prove
+himself so, too, in givin' you skunks as took me a deal more nor you
+bargained for."
+
+"Nelatu is not here."
+
+"Not here?  Why, didn't you tell me just now that this war his father's
+town?"
+
+"I did; but Nelatu is not here."
+
+"Not now, perhaps; but I s'pose he'll be here?"
+
+"He will not return for weeks."
+
+Carrol's countenance fell.
+
+"Then, dog-gone yur skin, lead on!  I throw up the pack of cards now
+that the trump's out of 'em.  It's my luck, and it's the darndest luck I
+ever seed; there's no standin' agin it.  I s'pose I must give in."
+
+Without another word he followed his guards.
+
+They entered the council chamber, where the assembled warriors awaited
+them.
+
+With his foot upon the threshold, his manner entirely changed from the
+light, jeering hilarity he had exhibited to that of a calm and dignified
+bearing.
+
+He saw in an instant that he was foredoomed.
+
+The stern expression of his judges told him as much.
+
+The mock ceremonial of examination was proceeded with, and a vain
+attempt made to extract from him intelligence of the movements of the
+whites, especially of the numbers and disposition of the Government
+troops, some of whom had by this time arrived in the peninsula.
+
+His disdainful refusal to betray his own race did him no service.
+
+True, he was already sentenced to die, but the manner of his death might
+inflict horror on him who had no fear of dying.
+
+Though the questions were skilfully put to him, the old hunter saw
+through them all.
+
+He did not, indeed, possess much knowledge of the military invasion; but
+had he been in the secret of the commanding officer himself, he could
+not have been more reticent in his replies.
+
+Utterly foiled in their questions, the warriors played their last card,
+and with threats of the most terrible tortures endeavoured to wring from
+his fears what his honour would not reveal.
+
+Vain effort on their part.
+
+Cris did, indeed, wince when they first spoke of torture; but,
+recovering himself, he became more proudly defiant than before.
+
+"Ye may shake my old body with rackin' pains.  I know you've got devil's
+inventions, and I don't deny but they're awful; but there's somethin'
+about me that ye can't make tremble, not if all the imps o' hell war yer
+slaves--that's my soul.  It'll come out of yer fiery ordeal as calm as
+it is now; and with its last thoughts it'll despise and dare ye!  Cris
+Carrol arn't bin backwoods hunter for a matter goin' on forty year to be
+skeart at burnin' sticks or hot lead; and he'll die as he has lived, an
+honest man!"
+
+A mingled murmur of admiration and anger ran through the assembled
+crowd, and it was evident that many of the warriors would have given
+their consent to his being set free.
+
+There is something about TRUE courage which extorts admiration even from
+an enemy.
+
+A hurried consultation took place among the head men in council.
+
+It was speedily over, and the oldest of their number rose and pronounced
+sentence against the prisoner.
+
+It was death by burning at the stake!
+
+Cris Carrol was not surprised on hearing it.
+
+The sentence had already lost half of its terror.  He had made up his
+mind that this would be his doom.
+
+Only one word of response came from his lips--
+
+"When?"
+
+"To-morrow!" replied he who had pronounced judgment.
+
+Without bestowing a glance upon those who had thus fixed the limit of
+his earthly career, the hunter strode from the council chamber with calm
+and measured steps.
+
+As he passed out the crowd made way for him, and many of the faces
+expressed admiration--some even pity.
+
+The stoic bravery of the Indian is marvellous, and for him death has no
+terrors.  With them it is a sort of fatalism.
+
+What they do not dread themselves, they make but light of in others.
+
+Por all that they have the highest admiration for a man who dares meet
+death calmly.
+
+In their eyes the white captive had assumed all the importance of a
+great warrior.
+
+Yet was he an enemy--one of the race with whom they were at war--
+therefore he must die.
+
+Thus strangely do civilisation and barbarism meet on common ground.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.
+
+THE SLEEPING DRAUGHT.
+
+Cris Carrol's fortitude did not desert him, when he once more found
+himself alone in his prison.
+
+He was not wholly unmoved by the reflection that on the morrow he must
+die; for it was a death such as even a brave man might not meet bravely,
+but a lingering death by torture.
+
+The hunter knew what this meant.
+
+"A bullet ain't nothin'," said he to himself, "it's into yer body afore
+ye knows it, and if it's in your vitals there's an end on it; but to
+stand up to be prodded with burning sticks, requires philosophy a'most
+as much as this hyar chile have got.  Dog-rot it, it won't bear thinkin'
+on--that it won't.  But I'll be all-fired eternally if them fellows
+shall know how it hurts Cris Carrol!  So let 'em do their worst, dura
+'em!"
+
+After this self-consoling soliloquy, he calmly went to work to make
+himself comfortable, by laying his blanket on the bare ground and
+improvising a pillow out of some logs that lay within reach.
+
+As he handled the billets, a strange desire seized him.  It was to knock
+his guard's brains out and make a dash for liberty.  But a moment's
+reflection convinced him that the attempt at escape would be futile, the
+men outside being doubtless prepared to oppose his exit.
+
+A disinclination to shed blood uselessly decided him, and he lay down
+composedly after lighting his pipe.
+
+For some time he ruminated on his condition, puffing curls of smoke into
+the air, and watching them as they disappeared.
+
+Once or twice he heard a scratching noise near the corner of the room,
+but it ceased almost as soon as he had noticed it.
+
+At length, giving way to weariness, he composed himself to sleep, and
+before long, his loud snoring suggested to his guards that they might
+relax their vigilance.
+
+They accordingly retired outside the door, after having assured
+themselves that his slumber was genuine.
+
+There were still four of them, and they began chattering to each other,
+for a time forgetting their prisoner.
+
+He was at length awakened by a gentle tug at his arm, which had to be
+repeated several times before it had the effect of arousing him.
+
+In an instant he sat up.
+
+"Eh? what?  By the etarnal--"
+
+An admonition of silence checked him, and he surveyed, with an
+astonished countenance, the cause of his disturbance.
+
+In the darkest corner of the hut he perceived an opening, through which
+the face of a young girl was visible.  He started on recognising her.
+
+"Hush!" she said in a whisper.  "Remember you are watched.  Lie down
+again--listen; but say nothing.  Ha! they are coming back!"
+
+At these words the speaker withdrew, just in time, as two of the guards
+next moment re-entered the room.
+
+They did not stay long.  The heavy snoring which Cris improvised for
+them disarmed them of suspicion.
+
+The moment they were again gone, he turned his eyes towards the opening,
+and listened.
+
+"Do you know me?--answer by a sign."
+
+Cris nodded in the affirmative.
+
+"You believe I am desirous to serve you?"
+
+To this question he almost nodded his head off.
+
+"Listen, then; and be careful to obey my instructions.  This opening
+leads into the next house.  The exit from it is through another--
+unfortunately it is a public room; therefore you cannot escape that way
+without as much risk as you would by going directly out by the door.
+Don't go that way, but by the window.  You see that window?"
+
+Cris looked up.  He had seen the window, certainly, and had already
+looked at it in every possible light, while considering a means of
+escape, but had come to the conclusion that it wouldn't suit.
+
+In reply, he shook his head despairingly.
+
+His visitor seemed to understand him.
+
+"It is too high, perhaps?"
+
+Cris intimated by a sign that the difficulty was not in its height.
+
+"The bars would prevent you getting out?"
+
+The hunter's head nodded like a mandarin's.
+
+"Is that all?  Then I may as well tell you.  Hush! some one is coming."
+
+One of the sentinels had thrust his head inside the door; he luckily
+withdrew it, convinced that all was right.
+
+On its disappearance Carrol's mysterious visitor returned, and resumed
+the conversation.
+
+"You think those bars would hinder your escape?"
+
+Another nod was the answer.
+
+"You are mistaken."
+
+The backwoodsman, now perfectly _au fait_ with his pantomimic part of
+the dialogue, gave a modest but expressive look of dissent.
+
+"I tell you you are mistaken," continued the young girl, "they are all
+sawn through.  I see you are curious to know who did that?"
+
+Cris said "yes," without speaking a word.
+
+"It was I!"
+
+"You?" he telegraphed.
+
+"Yes; I was once a close prisoner in this very room--not watched as you
+are, but still a prisoner.  I broke a watch to pieces, took out the
+mainspring, filed a saw with the nail-cleaning blade of a pen-knife, and
+with that I sawed away the bars, leaving barely enough to hold them
+together."
+
+Carrol's look expressed astonishment.
+
+"Yes; it _was_ hard work, and it took weeks to accomplish it.  I dare
+say you wonder why I didn't make my escape.  That's too long a story to
+tell you now."
+
+The backwoodsman's look was very eloquent, and his visitor equally quick
+of comprehension.  By that look he asked a question.
+
+"No; I'm not a prisoner now," she answered, "only in name.  You shall
+have the benefit of my labours.  But you must do everything cautiously.
+And first, to get rid of your guards."
+
+"How was that to be done?"
+
+It was the captive who asked himself this question.
+
+"Here is a bottle," continued she; "it contains a sleeping draught.
+When they return, ask them for a drink; they will give it to you in a
+gourd; manage to pour the contents of this bottle into the gourd, and
+invite them to drink along with you.  They will do so, as they never
+refuse a condemned captive.  In a few minutes the draught will take
+effect.  Then climb to the window, remove the bars without noise, let
+yourself down softly, and make your way straight into the forest.  No
+thanks, till I see you again!"
+
+With these words his visitor vanished, the opening in the wall closed
+noiselessly, and Cris lay wondering whether he had been sleeping or
+waking, listening to a soft, delicate voice, or only dreaming that he
+heard it.
+
+The phial in his hand, however, gave token that he had not been
+dreaming.  His visitor was no creature of another world, but one of this
+mundane sphere.
+
+The hunter scratched his head with bewilderment, and mentally reviewed
+the situation.
+
+"Wal, of all the surprisingest things as ever I met, this air the most
+tremenjous.  Bite me to death with gallinippers if ever I thought to
+have seed sich a thing and not yell right out!  And me a lyin' here when
+that splendiferous critter war a botherin' her brain to sarve this old
+sinner!  It's the most etarnal 'stonishing thing ever heerd on--that's
+what it is.  Yah! so you're come agin, air ye?" he continued, as two of
+his guards re-entered.  "Wal, I reckon I've got somethin' as 'ill suit
+your complaint.  Come in, ye devils, you!"
+
+The unconscious objects of his apostrophe having entered the room,
+seated themselves not far from him, chattering with each other.  The
+subject of the conversation was uninteresting to their prisoner, who lay
+revolving in his mind what was best to be done.
+
+The time for putting his plan into execution had at length arrived.
+
+His sentinels had ceased conversing, and were with difficulty keeping
+themselves awake.
+
+"Look hyar, red-skins," he said, addressing them, "have ye sich a thing
+as a drop of water?  I'm most chokin' wi' thirst, and I see its no use
+waiting till you axes me, so I'll take the trouble off your hands, and
+axe you."
+
+One of the Indians good-naturedly went outside, returning with a gourd,
+which he handed to the prisoner.
+
+Cris raised it to his lips, and drank; then paused, as if for breath.
+
+"By the etarnal!" said he, "if I didn't think I seed one of your
+comrades put his head in that thar door.  What kin he want?"
+
+The men looked in the direction of the door.
+
+The contents of the phial were poured into the gourd.
+
+When the Indians looked again at their captive, he was apparently
+enjoying another long draught of water.
+
+Not a drop, however, passed his lips.
+
+"Ah!" he exclaimed, after his seemingly exhausting imbibation, and with
+the greatest difficulty suppressing a grimace, "there's nothing like
+water to refresh one.  It a'most gives a dyin' man new lease o' his
+life.  I wonder I never tried it afore.  There's a smack o' freedom
+about it that's worth its weight in gold.  Try it yourselves, and don't
+stand staring, as if you was agoin' to swallow me."
+
+The comical expression of their captive's face, more than the long
+speech he made to the two men, induced them to oblige him.
+
+Putting their lips to the gourd, each took a draught of the water.
+
+They did not seem to coincide with him in his opinion of its virtues.
+
+The old hunter laughed in his sleeve on perceiving their wry faces.
+
+"Don't like it, eh?  Wal, you don't know what's good for ye.  Poor
+benighted critters! how should ye?"
+
+As he made the remark he fell back upon his log bolster, and again
+seemed to compose himself to sleep.
+
+If the Indians had been somnolent before drinking the water, they were
+not rendered more wakeful by the indulgence, and it was almost ludicrous
+to see what useless efforts they made to battle against the potent
+narcotic.
+
+In vain they talked to each other, got up, and paced the room, and
+endeavoured to stand up without leaning up against the wall.
+
+This struggle between sleep and watchfulness at length came to a close.
+
+In less than ten minutes after taking the draught, both lay stretched
+along the floor in a deep death-like slumber.
+
+The backwoodsman lost no more time.
+
+With an agile motion, he planted his feet in the interstices of the
+logs, and reached the window.
+
+A slight wrenching of the bars showed the skill with which they had been
+sawn asunder.
+
+One after another gave way, and the whole framework was in his hands.
+
+He was on the point of dropping it gently, when outside, under the
+window, a human form appeared.
+
+It was that of an Indian!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.
+
+AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
+
+On seeing the Indian, Cris Carrol felt himself in a dilemma.
+
+But he did not pause long before taking action.
+
+He saw that the man was not watching him, but seemed to have his eyes
+fixed upon the windows of the adjoining habitation.
+
+Quietly pulling in the iron framework which was beginning to feel heavy,
+Cris deposited it without noise in the interior of the room and again
+clambered up to the window.  Before doing so, however, he stole his
+knife from one of the sleeping sentinels.
+
+The Indian outside had still maintained his attitude.
+
+When Cris looked forth again, he saw him with his eyes fixed on the same
+spot.
+
+What was to be done?
+
+The only thing that suggested itself to the hunter was precisely what he
+did do.
+
+He crept through the window.
+
+So quietly, that ere the individual below was aware of his presence, he
+had seized him by the throat and forced him to the ground.
+
+A surprise awaited him when he had accomplished this feat.  The Indian's
+face was revealed, and, to Carrol's surprise, no less than his joy, for
+not having plunged the knife into his heart, he recognised it.
+
+"Nelatu!"
+
+"Carrol!"
+
+"Hush! or you'll alarm all the red-skins about the place."
+
+"What are you doing here?"
+
+"I've just dropped out o' that thar window," he paid, pointing to the
+opening above.
+
+"How came you to go in there?"
+
+"I didn't go in of my own will, you may bet high on that.  I war brung."
+
+"Who brought you?"
+
+"Some o' yur own Injuns."
+
+"A prisoner?"
+
+"That's about the size o' it.  I shouldn't have been one much longer."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, that to-morrow I'd have been as dead as a man could be, with forty
+or fifty fellows playing blue-blazes on his carcase."
+
+"Ha! they have decreed on burning you?"
+
+"That's it, lad, and consarn me if I ain't glad to be out hyar in the
+open air a tellin' it you, 'stead of in there a thinkin' on it."
+
+"Who condemned you?"
+
+"Wal, names hev a kind o' slipped my memory, but they wur warriors and
+braves of yur enlightened community."
+
+"Why did you not send for me?"
+
+"I thought of that, but they told me you war gone, and wouldn't be back
+in time for the ceremony."
+
+"How did you get out here?  Who opened the window?"
+
+"That war done by a angel."
+
+"An angel?--what do you mean?"
+
+"Jist this; that at one of the corners of that thar eternal hole, a
+angel appeared and showed me the road to liberty."
+
+"Who was it?"
+
+"Wal, it air no use keepin' it from you--"
+
+"Speak! who was it?"
+
+"I'll tell you, but first listen a spell to somethin' else.  Nelatu,
+lad, I once did you a sarvice."
+
+"You did!  I shall never forget it!"
+
+"Durn it, it warn't for that I made mention on't.  It war only this--
+look me in the face, and tell me on the word of a man you mean square
+with me.  Do that an' I'll put my trust in ye, as I'm now puttin' my
+life in your hands."
+
+"Upon an Indian warrior's word, I am your friend!"
+
+"You air, Nelatu?  Then dog-gorn me if I doubt you.  Your hand!"
+
+They exchanged a friendly grasp.
+
+"It is more nor my life--it am the good name and actions of the most
+splendiferous, angeliferous critter the sun ever set eyes on!  It air--"
+
+"Alice Rody!"
+
+The hunter showed some surprise as Nelatu uttered the name.
+
+"Yes, it war that same gal; but how on airth did you come for to guess
+it so straight?"
+
+"Because that one name is never absent from my thoughts."
+
+The hunter uttered a strange exclamation.
+
+"Ho-ho!" he muttered to himself, "the wind sits in that quarter, do it?
+Poor lad, I'm fear'd thar ain't no chance for him."
+
+"I fear it," said Nelatu, overhearing the muttered remark; "but, come!--
+what she has commenced, I will accomplish.  At all risks I shall assist
+you in regaining your liberty."
+
+"Wal, I'll be glad to get it."
+
+"Then, follow me!"
+
+The Indian rapidly crossed the open space at the back of the house, and
+led the way to the edge of the forest.
+
+The released captive strode silently after.
+
+They paused under a grove of live oaks, in the shadow of which Carrol
+perceived a horse.
+
+"It is yours," said Nelatu, "follow the straight path, and you are
+free."
+
+"Nelatu," said the backwoodsman, "you've done me a great sarvice.  I'm
+goin' to give you a bit of advice in return for it--"
+
+"Give up the angeliferous critter that's your prisoner; send her back to
+her own people, and forget her!"
+
+"If I could forget her, you mean?"
+
+"Wal, I don't know much myself about them thar things; only my advice
+is--Give her up!  You'll be a deal happier," he added, suddenly waxing
+impassioned.  "That ere gal am as much above either you or me, or the
+likes of us, as the genooine angels air above all mortals.  Therefor'
+give her up, lad--give her up!"
+
+Again pressing Nelatu's hand in his, the old hunter climbed into the
+saddle, gave a kick to the horse, and rode off a free man.
+
+"Kim up, ye Seminole critter!" said he to the animal he bestrode, "an'
+take me once more to the open savannas; for, durn me! if this world
+arn't gettin' mixed up so, thet it's hard for a poor ignorant feller
+like me to know whether them that call 'emselves civilised air more to
+be thought on than them air savages, or _wisey wersey_."
+
+The question was one that has puzzled clearer brains than those of Cris
+Carrol.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY.
+
+THE TALE OF AN INDIAN CHIEF.
+
+As the old hunter has ridden out of our sight for ever, let us return to
+the Indian town, where Alice Rody was so strangely domiciled.
+
+Her people had buried the ill-fated Sansuta near the old fort.
+
+The wild flowers she had loved so well had already blossomed over her
+grave.
+
+Wacora and Nelatu had both been present--both much affected.
+
+The events of the contest had called them away immediately afterwards.
+Wacora remained absent, but his cousin had made a stolen visit to the
+town, as shown by the incidents already related.
+
+The search for the escaped captive was carried on for some time with
+vigour, but was at length abandoned.
+
+Meanwhile, the other captive's life passed without incident.  The aid
+she had given the backwoodsman had afforded her the greatest pleasure.
+
+She had been informed of his capture immediately after his condemnation,
+and was resolved to help him in his escape.
+
+She did not know of Nelatu's presence near the scene, nor of his
+well-timed assistance.
+
+The Indian youth had ridden many miles that evening, merely to stand and
+gaze at her window.
+
+To feel that he was near her seemed a happiness to him.
+
+He departed without even seeing her.
+
+Weeks had elapsed since the Indian maiden had been laid to rest within
+the old fort.
+
+Alice often visited the spot.
+
+And there Wacora, who had once, more returned to the town again, saw
+her.
+
+She was resting on the same stone where Sansuta's head had rested on her
+bosom.
+
+On perceiving the chief's approach she rose to her feet, as if to quit
+the spot.
+
+"Does my coming drive you away?" he asked.
+
+"Not that; but it is growing late, and I must return to my prison."
+
+"Your prison?"
+
+"Is it not my prison?"
+
+"It is no more your prison than you are a prisoner.  You have long been
+free."
+
+There was a mournful sadness in Alice Rody's speech which touched the
+heart of the Indian chief.
+
+"Freedom is a boon only to those who can enjoy it," she said, after a
+pause.
+
+"And are you unhappy?" asked Wacora.
+
+"Can you ask that question?--you who have done so much--" She paused;
+her generous nature hesitated to inflict pain.
+
+He concluded her speech for her.
+
+"I have done so much to make you unhappy.  You are right.  I have been
+an instrument in the hands of Fate, and you owe your misery to me.  But
+I am only an instrument, not the original cause.  My will had no voice
+in my actions, and but one motive prompted me.  That was Duty."
+
+"Duty?" she asked, a smile curling her lip.
+
+"Yes, duty!  I could prove it to you had you the desire to hear me."
+
+She resumed her seat, and said, quietly--
+
+"I will hear you."
+
+"There was an Indian chief, the son of a Spanish woman.  His father was
+a Seminole.  Both are dead.  He was reared amongst his father's people,
+and learned from them all that Indian youths are taught.  Schools then
+existed amongst the Seminoles.  The white missionaries had established
+them, and were still at their heads.  They had both the ability and the
+desire to teach.  From them Wacora learned all that the pale-faced
+children are taught.  His mind was of his mother's race; his heart
+inclined to that of his father."
+
+"But why this difference?" she asked.
+
+"Because the more he knew the more was he convinced of the cruel
+oppression that had been suffered in all ages.  History was a tissue of
+it.  Geography marked its progress.  Education only proved that
+civilisation was spread at the expense of honour and of right.  This is
+what the schools taught him."
+
+"That is but one side of the question."
+
+"You are right, so he resolved to make himself familiar with the other.
+The story of the past might be applicable to the events of the present.
+Believing this, he left the schools, and sought the savannah and the
+forest.  What did he find there?  Nothing but the repetition of the past
+he had read of in books, aggravated by the lawlessness and rapacity of
+the present.  The red man was ignorant.  But did the pale-faces seek to
+educate him?  No!  They sought and still seek to keep him ignorant,
+because, in his ignorance, lies their advantage."
+
+"Was that all the fault of our race?"  Alice asked, as she noticed the
+enthusiastic flush upon the speaker's face.
+
+"Not all.  That were to argue falsely.  The red man's vices grew greater
+as the chances of correcting them were denied him.  His instinct
+prompted him to retaliation, for by this he sought to check oppression.
+'Twas a vain effort.  He found it so; and was forced to practise
+cruelty.  So the quarrel progressed till to-day the Indian warrior sees
+in every white man only an enemy."
+
+"But now?  Surely you are not so?"
+
+"I am the Indian chief I have attempted to describe.  Take that for your
+answer."
+
+The young girl was silent.
+
+"If my heart bleeds for suffering, it is my mother's nature pleading
+within me.  I check it, because it would be unworthy of a warrior, and
+the leader of warriors.  The storm has arisen--I am carried along with
+it!"
+
+As he uttered the last words his form seemed to dilate, while his
+listener stood wondering at it spell-bound.
+
+After a pause, he continued in a tone more subdued, but still full of
+feeling.
+
+"If I have caused you unhappiness, think of me as the involuntary
+instrument.  My uncle was beloved by all his tribe--by all our race.
+His injuries were ours; it was ours to avenge them.  And for her"--his
+voice trembled as he pointed to Sansuta's grave--"_she_ was his only
+hope and joy upon earth."
+
+Alice Rody's tears fell in torrents over the last resting-place of the
+Indian maiden.  Wacora observed them, and, with a delicacy of feeling,
+was about to withdraw from her presence, when she stayed him with a
+motion of her hand.
+
+For some time neither uttered a word.  Alice at length spoke, through
+sobs which she vainly strove to check or conceal.
+
+"Forgive me," said she, "for I have done you a great wrong.  Much that
+was dark and terrible appears now just and natural.  I cannot say that I
+am happier, but I am less troubled than before."
+
+He would have kissed her hand, but, with a slight shudder, she drew
+back.
+
+"No, no; do not touch me!  Leave me to myself.  I shall be more composed
+by-and-bye."
+
+He obeyed, without saying a word; leaving her alone.
+
+For a long time she sat in the same place, a prey to thoughts she scarce
+understood.
+
+At length she rose, to all appearance more composed, and retracing the
+forest path with slow, sad steps, she re-entered the Indian town.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY ONE.
+
+A TREACHEROUS BRIDGE.
+
+There was one among the Indians who viewed their fair captive with no
+great favour.
+
+It was Maracota.
+
+His devotion to Oluski had been so blindly true that, in his
+narrow-minded memory of the old chief's wrongs, he had become
+bloodthirsty and remorseless.  Naturally of a revengeful disposition, he
+saw, in the leniency of both Wacora and Nelatu towards the pale-faced
+maiden, too much of forgiveness.
+
+This stirred his evil passions to their depth, and he sought for an
+opportunity to do her an injury.
+
+With a shrewd guess at the truth, he looked upon Cris Carrol's escape as
+another evidence of that toleration which ill consorted with his
+sanguinary hatred of the white race.
+
+He dared not take open measures, but insidiously strove to turn the
+people of the tribe against their white captive, as well as Wacora.
+
+His success was not commensurate with his wishes.  They admired their
+chief too much to believe anything to his prejudice, and Maracota became
+himself looked upon as a restless agitator--a subject more zealous than
+loyal.
+
+He saw, accordingly, that any injury to the captive must be accomplished
+by his own agency; the more so, as he had already endeavoured to excite
+a feeling of jealousy in Nelatu's mind, of which she and Wacora were the
+objects.  The generous youth not only refused belief, but angrily
+reproved the slanderer, for daring to couple his cousin's name with an
+act so unworthy!
+
+When a person resolves upon mischief it is astonishing how many
+opportunities present themselves.
+
+Alice, although unsuspicious of the enmity of which she was the object,
+avoided Maracota.  She did so from a different motive.  She knew that it
+was he who had fired the fatal shot at her brother, and could not help
+regarding the act with abhorrence.  His sister, how could she?
+
+And, as his sister, how could she look upon his executioner without
+repugnance--more than repugnance--with horror?
+
+The exigencies of the war had kept Maracota away from the town, and for
+long periods; but the same causes that brought Wacora back, also
+controlled his return.
+
+He felt that now, if ever, was the time to carry out his schemes of
+malignity.
+
+He accordingly watched her every movement; amongst others, the many
+lonely visits she paid to the ruined fort.
+
+There was the opportunity he wanted, if he could only find the means to
+avail himself of it.
+
+In a community of red men, where everything is reduced, even in times of
+a temporary peace, to dull routine, it was not difficult to devise a
+plan of revenge.  But it must be unnoticed, or go unpunished, for he had
+a wholesome dread of Wacora's displeasure, and was not disposed to incur
+it.
+
+Some days had elapsed since the interview described between the chief
+and his captive, during which time they had seen nothing of each other.
+
+Wacora, with great delicacy, had avoided her, and she had kept herself
+within the dwelling assigned to her, afraid to meet him, yet pondering
+deeply over what he had said.
+
+In spite of a natural prejudice against the Indian race, she was
+startled and wonder-stricken at the nobility of thought and rare talent
+he had exhibited.  She did not doubt but that a portion, at least, of
+his argument was based on false reasoning, but she was not subtle
+enough, or perhaps indisposed, to detect the erroneous argument.  We are
+very apt to acknowledge the truth of what we admire, whilst admitting
+its errors.
+
+Alice Rody was in this predicament.
+
+She had learned to respect the Indian chief, and her respect was tinged
+with admiration of his good qualities.
+
+This mental ratiocination had occupied her during the days of her
+seclusion.
+
+She endeavoured to divert her mind to other subjects, and to this end
+determined to pay another visit to the old fort.  She was prompted to it
+by a thought of having too long forgotten the Indian maiden who slept
+within the ruins.
+
+It was a glorious morning as she set forth for a walk to the place.
+
+The way was through a belt of timbered land leading to a creek, spanned
+by a rude wooden bridge.  On the other side lay the ruin.
+
+The wood was passed in safety, and she reached the water's edge.  To her
+amazement she found the creek greatly swollen; this often happened after
+heavy rains, though she had never before seen it in that condition.
+
+She proceeded along the causeway leading to the bridge, that seemed to
+offer a safe means of crossing.
+
+She paused to contemplate the current, bearing upon its bosom the torn
+trunks of trees caught in its rapid course.
+
+In another moment she was upon the bridge, and had got midway over it,
+when a tremulous motion of the planks caused her to hesitate.  As she
+stood still the motion ceased, and smiling at her fears she again
+proceeded.
+
+Not far, however.  Ere she had made three steps forward, to her horror
+the motion re-commenced with greater violence.
+
+She saw it was too late to retreat, and sped onward, the planks swaying
+fearfully towards the water.
+
+Believing it best to proceed, she took courage for a fresh effort, and
+kept on towards the other side.  It was a fatal resolution.
+
+Just as she had prepared for her last spring the planks gave way with a
+creaking sound, and she was precipitated into the stream.
+
+Her presence of mind was gone, and in an instant she was submerged
+beneath the seething current of the flood.
+
+She rose again, gave utterance to a shriek, and was again swallowed up,
+her wail of agony being uttered in the water.
+
+At that moment a face that expressed fiendish delight appeared through
+the bushes, on the bank; nor did it vanish until assured that all was
+over, and Alice Rody had sunk below the surface, never more to return to
+it alive.
+
+Then, and not till then, the form emerged from out the underwood, and
+scrambling to the rude pier from which the planks had parted, stood
+surveying the scene.
+
+It was Maracota!
+
+"Good!" cried he.  "So perish all who would make the red man forgive the
+injuries of his race.  She was the child of a villain--the sister of a
+fiend!"
+
+He stooped down and examined the broken fragments of the bridge.
+
+"Maracota's axe has done the deed well," said he, continuing his
+soliloquy, "and he has nothing to fear.  Her death will be attributed to
+accident.  It was a great thought, and one that Oluski's spirit will
+approve.  Maracota was his favourite warrior, and to please his shade
+has he done this deed, and will do more.  Death to the pale-faces--death
+to their women and children!  Death and extermination to the accursed
+race!"
+
+The vengeful warrior rose from his stooping position, cast one hurried
+glance upon the turbulent stream, and once more entering the underwood,
+disappeared from the spot.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY TWO.
+
+A SOLILOQUY.
+
+Wacora came from the council chamber, where the warriors had assembled,
+and passed over to the house where dwelt his white captive.
+
+This was no unusual thing for him when he deemed himself safe from her
+observation.  Upon the day in question, however, he had resolved to see
+her.
+
+The time had come when active measures were about to be taken by the
+United States Government in order to "suppress" (such was the term used)
+the Indians in Florida, and although none could know at that moment how
+difficult the undertaking would prove, all were alive to the fact that
+the work was about to commence in earnest.
+
+Information of this had reached the young Seminole chief; and he saw the
+necessity of removing his tribe from their present residence.
+
+Hence the council--hence, also, his visit to Alice Rody.
+
+He had determined to lay the facts fully before her, in order that she
+might name the time of return to her own people.
+
+Thus reflecting, he walked on towards the house tenanted by his captive.
+
+On arriving at the place he found she was not there; but some children
+playing near told him she had gone into the woods, and pointed in the
+direction she had taken.
+
+The young chief hesitated about following her.  He was unwilling to
+thrust himself into her presence at a time she had, perhaps, devoted to
+self communion and repose.
+
+Turning in another direction, he wandered for some time purposelessly,
+taking no note of the locality, until he had reached the belt of the
+woods which Alice had herself traversed on her road to the old ruin.
+Wacora, however, entered it at some distance farther off from the skirts
+of the town.
+
+Once under the shadow of the trees he abated his pace, which, up to this
+time, had been rapid.  Now walking with slow step, and abstracted air,
+he finally stopped and leant against a huge live oak, his eyes wandering
+afar over the sylvan scene.
+
+"Here," he soliloquised in thought, "here, away from men and their
+doings, alone is there peace!  How my heart sickens at the thought that
+human ambitions and human vanities should so pervert man's highest
+mission--peace--turning the world into scenes of strife and bloodshed!
+I, an Indian savage, as white men call me, would gladly lay down this
+day and for ever the rifle and the knife; would willingly bury the war
+hatchet, and abandon this sanguinary contest!
+
+"Could I do so with honour?" he asked, after a pause of reflection.
+"No!  To the end I must now proceed.  I see the end with a prophetic
+eye; but I must go on as I've begun, even if my tribe with all our
+people should be swept from the earth!  Fool that I've been to covet the
+leadership of a forlorn hope!"
+
+At the end of this soliloquy he stamped the ground with fury.
+
+Petty dissensions had arisen among the people he deemed worthy of the
+highest form of liberty.  By this his temper had been chafed--his hopes
+suddenly discouraged.  He was but partaking of the enthusiast's fate,
+finding the real so unlike the ideal.  It is the penalty usually paid by
+intelligence when it seeks to reform or better the condition of fallen
+humanity.
+
+"And she," he continued, in his heart's bitterness, "she can only think
+of me as a vain savage; vain of the slight superiority education appears
+to give me over others of my race.  I might as well aspire to make my
+home among the stars as in her bosom.  She is just as distant, or as
+unlikely to be mine."
+
+In the mood in which the Indian was at that moment, the whole universe
+seemed leagued against him.
+
+Bitterly he lamented the fate that had given him grand inspirations,
+while denying him their enjoyment.
+
+As he stood beneath the spreading branches of the live oak a double
+shadow seemed to have fallen upon him--that of his own thoughts, and the
+tree thickly festooned with its mosses.  Both were of sombre hue.
+
+He took no heed of the time, and might have stood nursing his bitter
+thoughts still longer, but for a sound that suddenly startled him from
+his reverie.
+
+It was a shriek that came ringing through the trees as if of one in
+great distress.
+
+The voice Wacora heard was a woman's.
+
+Lover-like, he knew it to be that of Alice Rody in peril.
+
+Without hesitating an instant he rushed along the path in the direction
+from which it appeared to come.
+
+In that direction lay the stream.
+
+His instinct warned him that the danger was from the water.  He
+remembered the rain and storm just past.  It would be followed by a
+freshet.  Alice Rody might have been caught by it, and was in danger of
+drowning.
+
+He made these reflections while rushing through the underwood, careless
+of the thorns that at every step penetrated his skin, covering his
+garments with blood.
+
+His demeanour had become suddenly changed.  The sombre shadow on his
+brow had given place to an air of the wildest excitement.  His white
+captive, she who had made him a captive, was in some strange peril.
+
+He listened as he ran.  The swishing of the branches, as he broke
+through them, hindered him from hearing.  No sound reached his ears; but
+he saw what caused him a strange surprise.  It was the form of a man,
+who, like himself, was making his way through the thicket, only in a
+different direction.  Instead of towards the creek the man was going
+from it, skulking off as if desirous to shun observation.
+
+For all this Wacora recognised him.  He saw it was Maracota.
+
+The young chief did not stay to inquire what the warrior was doing
+there, or why he should be retreating from the stream?  He did not even
+summon the latter to stop.  His thoughts were all absorbed by the shriek
+he had heard, and the danger it denoted.  He felt certain it had come
+from the creek, and if it was the cry of one in the water, there was no
+time to be lost.
+
+And none was lost--not a moment--for in less than sixty seconds after
+hearing it he stood upon the bank of the stream.
+
+As he had anticipated, it was swollen to a flood, its turbid waters
+carrying upon their whirling surface trunks and torn branches of trees,
+bunches of reeds and grass uprooted by the rush of the current.
+
+He did not stand to gaze idly upon these.  The bridge was above him.
+The cry had come from there.  He saw that it was in ruins.  All was
+explained!
+
+But where was she who had given utterance to that fearful shriek?
+
+He hurried along the edge of the stream, scanning its current from bank
+to bank, hastily examining every branch and bunch borne upon its bosom.
+
+A disc of whitish colour came before his eyes.  There was something in
+the water, carried along rapidly.  It was the drapery of a woman's
+dress, and a woman's form was within it!
+
+The young chief stayed not for further scrutiny; but plunging into the
+flood, and swimming a few strokes, he threw his arms around it.
+
+And he knew that in his arms he held Alice Rody!  In a few seconds after
+her form lay dripping upon the bank, apparently lifeless!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FORTY THREE.
+
+SAVED!  SAVED!
+
+Wacora had saved his white captive.  She still lived!
+
+The struggle between life and death had been long and doubtful, but life
+at length triumphed.
+
+Por days had she lingered upon the verge of existence, powerless to move
+from her couch; scarce able to speak.  It was some time before she could
+shape words to thank her deliverer, though she knew who it was.
+
+She had been told it was Wacora.
+
+The young chief had been unremitting in his attentions, and showed great
+solicitude for her recovery.  He found time, amidst the warlike
+preparations constantly going on, to make frequent calls at her
+dwelling, and make anxious inquiry about her progress.
+
+The nurses who attended upon her did not fail to note his anxiety.
+
+Nelatu had been absent and did not return to the town until she was
+convalescent.
+
+He was grieved to the heart on hearing what had happened.
+
+Wacora, suspecting that Maracota was the guilty one, sought him in every
+direction, but the vengeful warrior was nowhere to be found.
+
+He had fled from the presence of his indignant chief.
+
+It was not until long after that his fate became known.
+
+He had been captured in his flight by some of the settlers, and shot;
+thus dying by the hands of the enemies he so hated.
+
+Several weeks elapsed, and no active movement had, as yet, been made by
+the government troops.  Wacora's tribe still continued to reside in
+their town undisturbed.
+
+His captive continued to recover, and, along with her restored strength,
+came a change over the spirit of her existence.  She seemed transformed
+into a different being.
+
+The past had vanished like a dream.  Only dimly did she remember her
+residence at Tampa Bay, her father, the conflict on the hill, the
+massacre, her brother's sad fate, all seemed to have faded from her
+memory, until they appeared as things that had never been, or of which
+she had no personal knowledge, but had only heard of them long, long
+ago.
+
+It is true they still had a shadowy existence in her mind, but entirely
+disassociated with the events of her life, since she had been a captive
+among the Indians.  Nor was there much to regret in this impaired
+recollection, for both the events and personages had been among the
+miseries of her life.
+
+Of her present she had a more pleasurable appreciation.  She was living
+a new life, and thinking new thoughts.
+
+Nelatu and Wacora both strove in a thousand kind ways to render her
+contented and happy.
+
+They had no great luxuries to offer her, but such as they had were
+bestowed with true delicacy.
+
+Strange to say, that in this common solicitude there was not a spark of
+jealousy between the two cousins.
+
+Nelatu's nature was generosity itself; and self-sacrifice appeared to
+him as if it was his duty or fate!
+
+Still, while he basked in the sunshine of the young girl's beauty, he
+had not the courage to imagine to himself that she could ever belong to
+another.  Not to him might her love be given, but surely not to another!
+He could not think of that.
+
+True that at times he fancied he could perceive a look bestowed on
+Wacora such as she never vouchsafed to him--a tremor in her voice when
+speaking to his cousin, which had never betrayed itself in her discourse
+with himself.
+
+But he might be mistaken.  Might?  He was certain of it.  If she did not
+love him, at any rate he could not think that she loved Wacora.
+
+Thus did the Indian youth beguile himself!
+
+Innocent as a child, he knew little of the heart of woman.
+
+That look--that tremor of the voice--should have told him that she loved
+Wacora.
+
+Yes; the end had come, and love had conquered.
+
+The white maiden was in love with the young Indian chief!
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Wacora and his captive--now more than ever his captive--were seated
+within the ruined fort near Sansuta's grave.
+
+"You are pleased once more to be here?" he asked.
+
+"I am.  During my illness I promised myself if ever I recovered that my
+first visit should be to this spot."
+
+"And yet it was in paying such a visit that you nearly lost your life."
+
+"The life you saved."
+
+"'Twas a happy chance.  I cannot tell what led me to the forest on that
+occasion."
+
+"What were you doing there?" she asked.
+
+"Like the blind mortal that I am, I was blaming myself, and my fate,
+too, when I should have been blessing my fortune."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For conducting me to the spot where I heard you cry."
+
+"What fortune were you blaming?"
+
+"That which made me unworthy."
+
+"Unworthy of what?"
+
+He did not immediately answer her, but the look he gave her caused her
+to turn her eyes to the ground.
+
+"Do you really wish to know of what I think myself unworthy?"
+
+She smiled as she replied, "If you betray no confidence in telling me."
+
+"None; none but my own."
+
+"Then, tell me if you like."
+
+Was it the faint tremor in her voice that emboldened him to speak?
+
+"Unworthy of _you_!" was his answer.
+
+"Of me?" she said, her face averted from his.
+
+"Of you, and you only.  But why should I withhold further confidence?
+You have given me courage to speak; have I also your leave?"
+
+She made no answer to the last question, but her look was eloquent of
+assent.
+
+"I thought on that day," he continued, "that I was accursed by man and
+heaven--that I, an Indian savage, was not accounted worthy to indulge in
+thoughts of love that had sprung up within my heart, like a pure flower,
+only to be blighted by the prejudices of race; that all my adoration for
+the fair and excellent, must be kept down by the accident of birth; and
+that whilst nurturing a holy passion, I must crush it out and stifle it
+for ever."
+
+"But now?"  Her voice was low and tremulous.
+
+"Now--all rests upon one word.  Upon that word depends my happiness or
+misery now and for ever."
+
+"And what is it?"
+
+"Do not ask it from me.  It must come from your eyes--from your lips--
+from your heart!"
+
+There was an eloquence that spoke the answer without a word being
+uttered.
+
+It was the eloquence of love!
+
+In another instant the lips of the white maiden touched those of her
+Indian lover.
+
+From their rapturous embrace they were startled by a sound.  It was a
+groan!
+
+It came from the other side of Sansuta's grave, behind which there was a
+clump of bushes.
+
+Wacora rushed towards the spot, while Alice kept her place, transfixed
+to it by a terrible presentiment.
+
+The young chief uttered an exclamation of horror, as he looked in among
+the bushes.
+
+His cousin was lying beneath them, stretched out--dead! a dagger, which
+his right hand still clutched, sheathed in his heart!
+
+With his last groan, and his heart's blood, the generous youth had
+yielded up his love with his life.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+L'ENVOI.
+
+The Seminole war continued for eight years.
+
+Eight years of bloodshed and horror, in which the white man and the
+Indian struggled for the supremacy.
+
+The whites fought for conquest, the Indians to retain possession of
+their own.
+
+On both sides were acts of cruelty--terrible episodes illustrating the
+_lex talionis_.
+
+As in all such contests, the pale-faces were the victors, and the red
+men were in time subdued.
+
+Such of the Seminoles as survived the war were allotted lands beyond the
+Mississippi; and, far distant from their native home, were commanded to
+be content and happy.
+
+They had no alternative but to submit to their adverse fate, and in
+several detachments they were transported to their new homes.
+
+In one of the migrating bands, who passed through New Orleans, bound
+west of the Mississippi river, was a young chief who attracted great
+notice by his commanding presence no less than by a companion seen
+constantly by his side--a white woman!
+
+She was of great beauty, and those who saw her naturally made enquiry
+about her name, parentage, and station, as also the name of the young
+chief.
+
+The Indians who were asked simply made answer that the chief was Wacora,
+and that she by his side was his wife, known among them as--
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+"The White Squaw."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The White Squaw, by Mayne Reid
+
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