outer gate, when a sentinel or
soldier, appointed to keep it, stopped them to remind them that it was
her husband's order, that no one should venture without the walls
after sunset. She, however, insisted on passing, and telling the
soldier that she would answer to her husband for his breach of orders,
she passed the outer barrier. Young Louis held up his bow and arrow
before the sentinel, saying gaily, "I am my mother's body guard, you
know." The sentinel saw the tears of the affectionate wife, gave way,
and permitted her to pass.

The distance from the fort to the place where the commander of the
white men usually moored his canoe was trifling and quickly passed.
Garanga and her little son flew along the narrow path, and soon
reached the shore. But, alas! instead of the face she loved, and the
form she fondly expected to press to her throbbing bosom, she beheld
the fierce Mecumeh. At a little distance from him were his companions.
Entreaties and remonstrance were alike in vain. On the part of
Garanga resistance was not attempted, but it was made with all the
spirit of a warrior by young Louis, who snatched a knife from the
girdle of one of the Indians, and attempted to plunge it into the
bosom of Mecumeh, as he was roughly attempting to bind his wampum-belt
over Garanga's mouth to deaden her screams. The uncle wrested the
knife from him, and smiled proudly on him, as if he recognized in the
brave boy a scion from his own noble and warlike stock. "You will be
the eagle of your tribe," said he, "which none will deem strange since
she that gave you birth was a daughter of the most valiant chief that
roams the wilds. The child of the panther will have the spirit of the
panther, nor need the young bear be taught to climb trees, nor the
eaglet to fly."

The Indians had two canoes: Garanga was conveyed to one, Louis to the
other; and both canoes were rowed into the Oswegatchie, and up the
stream as fast as it was possible to impel them against the current of
the river.

Not a word nor a cry escaped the boy: he seemed intent on some
purpose; and, when the canoe approached near the shore, he drew from
his head his fox-skin cap, and threw it so skilfully that it lodged
where he meant it should--on the branch of a tree which projected over
the water. There was a long white feather in the cap. The Indians had
observed the boy's movements; they held up their oars for a moment,
and seemed to consult whether they should return a