n he redoubled his vigilance, for the hour was suggestive of surprise
and massacre; but the gloom gradually departed, and the first streaks of
dawn silvered the flowing water.

It was a welcome sight, for the long night of anxiety had worn away, and
with strength recruited by repose, the journey could be resumed.

The young sentry was watching the long arrows of light fall upon the
waves, when an object startled him. It seemed to have risen from the
river's unseen depths, but a second look told him that it was an Indian
canoe. It skimmed over the water like a thing endowed with life, and the
beholder, eager to inspect its occupant, stepped to the brow of the
bank, but with the woodman's usual caution.

The light growing stronger as the day advanced, revealed the tenant of
the solitary canoe to the young man, and while he gazed intently, the
craft suddenly shot like an arrow to the shore.

Instinctively Oscar Parton raised his rifle, but the movement was
detected by the person in the stream, and a hand gave the peace signal.

"I cannot shoot a woman!" the guard murmured, lowering the weapon. "Her
coming may be our destruction, but I cannot harm her. Bless me, I
believe she is a white!"

The work of a few moments sufficed to bring the canoe to the shore, and
when its tenant stepped upon _terra firma_, she was confronted by the
curious guard, who had come boldly down the bank.

"White family up there?" the jauntily clad girl said, pointing up the
slope.

"What if they are?" said the young borderman, evasively. "Who are you?"

"Areotha," was the reply. "The white people call me Little Moccasin.
See!"

With her exclamation she put a foot forward, and displayed, with
innocent pride, a tiny moccasin gaily ornamented with beads.

"It is a pretty name, but what do you want here?" asked Oscar.

"Want to tell white father that Little Moccasin has seen him."

"Seen whom?"

"Don't you know--the young white spy who tracks the red men for the
Blacksnake?" the girl said with surprise.

"No."

Little Moccasin was nonplussed.

"Me see him," she said at length, and her deep eyes brightened. "Him and
the tall hunter come by and by, maybe."

"Assistance, eh?" said Parton, catching the import of her words. "Well,
we shall not reject it. You don't hate the whites, then?"

"Little Moccasin their friend."

"But you are not an Indian. Your skin is like mine."

"Been Indian long time, though," the girl said with a smile.