ed 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 the aspect of armed
men, and a force thrice their number, had its usual effect. They fled.
He looked after them, cried, 'shame!' and then, with a desperate yell,
leaped into the water and stood beside Marguerite. The canoes were now
within a few yards--He put his knife to her bosom--"The daughter of
Tecumseh," he said, "should have died by the judgment of our warriors,
but now by her brother's hand must she perish:" and he drew back his
arm to give vigour to the fatal stroke, when an arrow pierced his own
breast, and he fell insensible at his sister's side. A moment after
Marguerite was in the arms of her husband, and Louis, with his bow
unstrung, bounded from the shore, and was received in his father's
canoe; and the wild shores rung with the acclamations of the soldiers,
while his father's tears of pride and joy were poured like rain upon his
cheek."

The stranger paused, and Edward breathed one long breath, expressive of
the interest with which he had listened to the tale; and then said,
"You have not told us, sir, how the commandant was so fortunate as to
pursue in the right direction."

"He returned soon after Marguerite's departure, and of course was at no
loss to determine that she had been taken in the toils of her brother.
He explored the mouth of the Oswegatchie, thinking it possible that the
savages might have left their canoes moored there, and taken to the
land. Louis's cap and feather caught his eye, and furnished him a clue.
You have now my whole story," concluded the stranger; "and though I
cannot vouch for its accuracy, many similar circumstances must have
occurred, while this country was a wilderness, and my tradition is at
least supported by probability."

"You have not told us, sir," said Julia, "whether Mecumeh was really
killed. I do not see how Marguerite could leave him without finding out,
for after all, he was her brother."

"Marguerite," replied the stranger, "justified your opinion of sisterly
duty. Mecumeh was conveyed to the fort--the arrow was withdrawn, and
after a tedious illness, he recovered from the wound. There is too a
tradition that the pious sister converted him to the catholic faith; but
about this part of the story there seems to rest some uncertainty."

"And don't you know, s