icker than the arrow of Quecheco," returned the
Indian; "but he will not escape," he added, looking with admiring eyes
at Sir Christopher's gun, "the round stone which Soog-u-gest will
throw at him."

"I have often seen thee," said the Knight, "gaze at my piece with such
eyes as the sight of thy squaw, after long absence, might kindle up.
Were it not sure to be thy ruin, I could find it in my heart to give
it thee."

The eyes of Quecheco flashed. "Give me the stick," he cried, "that
makes a loud noise, and Quecheco will do a great thing."

"I have done wrong," thought the Knight, "in raising his expectations.
Nay, Quecheco," he said, "it would be taken away from thee by the
white men, and who would sell thee powder and ball!"

"Nin-e-yi-u wa-wee," (it is well,) said the Indian. "Soog-u-gest flies
so high that he sees a great way, and Quecheco spoke like a pappoose.
What has he to do with guns?"

The gift of the gun would have diverted the savage from his purpose,
by awakening the affection which covetousness had put to sleep, and
probably altered the fate of Sir Christopher and himself; but the
answer of the Knight dispelled the hope that for a single instant
warmed the heart of Quecheco with better feeling, and he persisted in
his original design.

They had walked several miles without seeing any game of importance,
or such as was thought worthy of other attention than the arrows of
the Indian, before they reached the spot indicated by him as where he
had marked the deer the day previous. It was a falsehood invented by
Quecheco, and great was his astonishment, on approaching, to behold a
herd of a dozen of these timid creatures.

It was a sort of lawn, of six or seven acres in extent, with a few
trees scattered over it, where they were feeding. The shape of the
ground was an irregular oblong, in some places not more than a hundred
yards across, and in others of double the distance, being like a
basin, at a depression of twenty or thirty feet below where the Knight
stood, concealed by trees and bushes. At the bottom flowed a small,
rapid stream, perhaps three rods wide, interposing itself betwixt him
and the herd. Sir Christopher had visited the locality before, and was
familiar with its features; and expecting game, from the story of
Quecheco, had taken care to approach with the wind in his face, to
avoid the scent of his person being carried to the delicate nostrils
of the animals while he stepped noiselessly