passed
before her eyes, but like a gleam of lightning bewildering her; then she
fell again an inert mass on the neck of the poor mule, whose wounded
feet could no longer sustain her. When beyond the river she was
compelled to follow her captors on foot, two Indians taking her by the
arm dragged her rapidly along, and a trace of blood marked on the sand
and dead leaves her painful passage.

But the Sambo was no longer afraid of pursuit; he cared little that
this blood betrayed the direction he had taken--he was approaching the
termination of his journey, and soon the cataracts which abound in the
currents of the great river sent up their deafening clamor.

The numerous company of Indians arrived at a sort of village, composed
of a hundred huts, made of reeds interlaced and clay; at their approach,
a multitude of women and children darted toward them with loud cries of
joy--more than one found there his anxious family--more than one wife
missed the father of her children!

These women soon learned the defeat of their party; their sadness was
transformed into rage on learning the defection of Martin Paz, and on
seeing his betrothed devoted to death.

Sarah remained immovable before these enemies and looked at them with a
dim eye; all these hideous faces were making grimaces around her, and
the most terrific threats were uttered in her ears--the poor child might
have thought herself delivered over to the torturers of the infernal
regions.

"Where is my husband?" said one; "it is thou who hast caused him to be
killed!"

"And my brother, who will never again return to the cabin--what hast
thou done with him? Death! death! Let each of us have a piece of her
flesh! let each of us have a pain to make her suffer! Death! death!"

And these women, with dishevelled hair, brandishing knives, waving
flaming brands, bearing enormous stones, approached the young girl,
surrounded her, pressed her, crushed her.

"Back!" cried the Sambo, "back! and let all await the decision of their
chiefs! This girl must disarm the anger of the Great Spirit, which has
rested upon our arms; and she shall not serve for private revenge
alone!"

The women obeyed the words of the old Indian, casting frightful glances
on the young girl; the latter, covered with blood, remained extended on
the pebbly shore.

Above this village, plunges, from a height of more than a hundred feet,
a foaming cataract, which breaks against sharp rocks; the Madeira,
c