hispers in his ears; let
him show the same kindness to the prisoner that the missionary will show
to the pappoose of the great chieftain; that the father of the captive
would show to the children of Wa-on-mon if the Great Spirit gave them to
him."

"The missionary speaks with a double tongue; he lies; he is a dog, and
he must say such words no more!" broke in The Panther, with a voice, a
manner, and a glare that showed his patience was exhausted. "The
missionary deserves the death of a dog, but he may go back to his
people; he cannot take the child with him; she shall die when the sun
rises."

"If the missionary cannot take the child of his friend with him then he
will not go back to him."

"If he stays till the sun shows itself above the woods then he shall
die."

Finley saw it would not do to hesitate longer. The moment had come for
him to fall back on the last and only recourse left, and much as he
regretted the act (for it was at variance with his principles), he now
made it promptly and with a skill, a cunning and a delicacy that could
not be excelled.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE LAST RECOURSE.

The night was well along when Missionary Finley determined to appeal to
his last recourse for saving the life of little Mabel Ashbridge.

In unnumbered ways the Shawanoes showed that stoicism and indifference
which they take pains to display when in the presence of strangers,
though not always among themselves. A number lolled on the ground, some
were standing, and two had sat down on the fallen tree. Another took
upon himself the duty of keeping the fire vigorously burning. From time
to time he walked off among the trees, and came back with sticks and
brush in his arms, which were flung on the flames. Although the air was
colder than on the preceding night, the additional warmth was not
needed; it was simply the light that was required.

The action of all these Shawanoes was as if their chieftain and his
white visitor were one hundred miles distant. None approached, addressed
or seemed to hear a word that passed, though in the stillness many of
their words, especially those uttered by the chieftain, were audible to
the farthest point of the camp.

The observant eye of Finley told him a significant fact. Allowing for
those that had fallen in the attack upon the flatboat, fully half a
dozen of the warriors were absent. They were watching the movements of
the whites who had crossed the river, and would soon rep