nd remove the cap,
but, after a moment, they again dashed their oars in the water, and
proceeded forward. They continued rowing for a few miles, and then
landed, hid their canoes behind some trees on the river bank, and
plunged into the woods with their prisoners. It was the intention of
the Indians to return to their canoes in the morning; and they had not
proceeded far from the shore, when they kindled a fire, and prepared
some food, and offered a share of it to Garanga and Louis. The poor
Garanga had no mind to eat, but Louis ate as heartily as if he had
been within the walls of the fort. When the Indians had fed, they
stretched themselves before the fire, but not till they had taken the
precaution to bind Garanga to a tree, and to compel Louis to lie down
in the arms of the brother of his mother. Neither of the prisoners
closed their eyes that night. Louis kept his fixed on his mother. She
sat upright beside an oak tree; the cord was fastened around her
waist, and bound around the tree, which had been blasted by lightning.
The bright moon poured its beams through the naked branches upon her
face, convulsed with the agony of despair and fear. With one hand she
held to her lips the now loved symbol of the faith of her husband--the
crucifix; the other grasped another symbol--the rosary. The sight of
his beloved mother in such a situation stirred up daring thoughts in
the bosom of the heroic boy, but he lay powerless in the naked and
brawny arms of the brother of his mother. He tried to disengage
himself, but, at the slightest movement, Mecumeh, though still
sleeping, seemed conscious, and strained him closer to him. At last
the strong sleep that, in the depth of the night, steeps the senses in
utter forgetfulness, overpowered him--his arms relaxed their hold, and
dropped lifeless beside him, and left Louis free.

The boy rose cautiously--looked for a moment on the Indians, and
assured himself that they all slept profoundly. He then possessed
himself of Mecumeh's knife, which lay at his feet, and severed the
cord which bound his mother to the tree. Neither of them spoke a
word--but with the least possible sound they resumed the way by which
they had come from the shore--Louis with the confidence, and Garanga
with the faint hope, of reaching it before they were overtaken.

It may easily be imagined by those who hear it how often the poor
mother, timid as a fawn, was startled by the evening breeze stirring
the leaves, o