ed man, Mohican," said the Tuscarora; "good; pale-faces, Yengeese."

"These are heavenly tidings," murmured Mabel, who little relished the
prospect of a deadly fray in that remote wilderness. "Let us approach at
once, dear uncle, and proclaim ourselves friends."

"Good," said the Tuscarora "red man cool, and know; pale-face hurried,
and fire. Let the squaw go."

"What!" said Cap in astonishment; "send little Magnet ahead as a
lookout, while two lubbers, like you and me, lie-to to see what sort of
a landfall she will make! If I do, I--"

"It is wisest, uncle," interrupted the generous girl, "and I have no
fear. No Christian, seeing a woman approach alone, would fire upon
her; and my presence will be a pledge of peace. Let me go forward, as
Arrowhead wishes, and all will be well. We are, as yet, unseen, and the
surprise of the strangers will not partake of alarm."

"Good," returned Arrowhead, who did not conceal his approbation of
Mabel's spirit.

"It has an unseaman-like look," answered Cap; "but, being in the woods,
no one will know it. If you think, Mabel--"

"Uncle, I know. There is no cause to fear for me; and you are always
nigh to protect me."

"Well, take one of the pistols, then--"

"Nay, I had better rely on my youth and feebleness," said the girl,
smiling, while her color heightened under her feelings. "Among Christian
men, a woman's best guard is her claim to their protection. I know
nothing of arms, and wish to live in ignorance of them."

The uncle desisted; and, after receiving a few cautious instructions
from the Tuscarora, Mabel rallied all her spirit, and advanced alone
towards the group seated near the fire. Although the heart of the
girl beat quick, her step was firm, and her movements, seemingly, were
without reluctance. A death-like silence reigned in the forest, for they
towards whom she approached were too much occupied in appeasing their
hunger to avert their looks for an instant from the important business
in which they were all engaged. When Mabel, however, had got within a
hundred feet of the fire, she trod upon a dried stick, and the trifling
noise produced by her light footstep caused the Mohican, as Arrowhead
had pronounced the Indian to be, and his companion, whose character had
been thought so equivocal, to rise to their feet, as quick as thought.
Both glanced at the rifles that leaned against a tree; and then each
stood without stretching out an arm, as his eyes fell on the for