r the flight of a bird from among the boughs of the
trees, but the boy bounded forward with all the courage of his
race(1), as if there were neither fear nor danger in the world.

[_Illustration: Designed & Etched by W. H. Brooks, A. R. H. A._

The Boy rose cautiously from the Warrior's grasp.

_page 204_.

_London, Published by Colburn & Bentley, April 1830._]

They had nearly attained the margin of the river where Louis meant to
launch one of the canoes, and drop down the current, when the Indian
yell, resounding through the woods, struck on their ears. They were
missed, pursued, and escape was impossible. Garanga, her bosom filled
with overmastering fear, sunk to the ground. Nothing could check the
career of Louis. "On!--on, mother!" he cried, "to the shore!" She
rose, and instinctively followed her boy. The sound of pursuit came
nearer and nearer. They reached the shore, and there beheld three
canoes coming swiftly up the river. Animated with hope, Louis screamed
the watchword of the garrison, and was answered by his father's voice.

The possibility of escape, and the certain approach of her husband,
infused new life into Garanga. "Your father cannot see us," she said,
"as we stand here in the shade of the trees; hide yourself in that
thicket, I will plunge into the water." Louis crouched under the
bushes, and was completely hidden by an overhanging grape-vine, while
his mother advanced a few steps into the water where she could be
distinctly seen. A shout from the canoes apprised her that she was
recognised, and, at the same moment, the Indians, who had now reached
the shore, rent the air with their cries of rage and defiance. They
stood for a moment as if deliberating what next to do; Mecumeh
maintained an undaunted and resolved air, but, with his followers, who
did not possess the courage of their race, the aspect of armed men,
and a force of thrice their number, had the effect to paralyze their
souls. They fled. He looked after them, cried "Shame!" and then with a
desperate yell leaped into the water, and stood beside Garanga. The
canoes were now within a few yards--he put his knife to her
bosom--"The daughter of the White Crane," he said, "should have died
by the judgment of our warriors, but now by her brother's hand she
must perish:" and he drew back his arm to give vigour to the fatal
stroke, when an arrow from the bow of the brave boy pierced his
breast, and he fell insensible at his sister's side. A