contained the body of Arrowhead, unconscious
of the presence of any other. She believed, indeed, that all had left
the island but herself, and the tread of the guide's moccasined foot was
too noiseless rudely to undeceive her.

Pathfinder stood gazing at the woman for several minutes in mute
attention. The contemplation of her grief, the recollection of her
irreparable loss, and the view of her desolation produced a healthful
influence on his own feelings; his reason telling him how much deeper
lay the sources of grief in a young wife, who was suddenly and violently
deprived of her husband, than in himself.

"Dew-of-June," he said solemnly, but with an earnestness which denoted
the strength of his sympathy, "you are not alone in your sorrow. Turn,
and let your eyes look upon a friend."

"June has no longer any friend!" the woman answered. "Arrowhead has gone
to the happy hunting-grounds, and there is no one left to care for June.
The Tuscaroras would chase her from their wigwams; the Iroquois are
hateful in her eyes, and she could not look at them. No! Leave June to
starve over the grave of her husband."

"This will never do--this will never do. 'Tis ag'in reason and right.
You believe in the Manitou, June?"

"He has hid his face from June because he is angry. He has left her
alone to die."

"Listen to one who has had a long acquaintance with red natur', though
he has a white birth and white gifts. When the Manitou of a pale-face
wishes to produce good in a pale-face heart He strikes it with grief;
for it is in our sorrows, June, that we look with the truest eyes into
ourselves, and with the farthest-sighted eyes too, as respects right.
The Great Spirit wishes you well, and He has taken away the chief, lest
you should be led astray by his wily tongue, and get to be a Mingo in
your disposition, as you were already in your company."

"Arrowhead was a great chief," returned the woman proudly.

"He had his merits, he had; and he had his demerits, too. But June you
are not desarted, nor will you be soon. Let your grief out--let it out,
according to natur', and when the proper time comes I shall have more to
say to you."

Pathfinder now went to his own canoe, and he left the island. In the
course of the day June heard the crack of his rifle once or twice; and
as the sun was setting he reappeared, bringing her birds ready cooked,
and of a delicacy and flavor that might have tempted the appetite of an
epicure. This s