disappointment when he found whom he had met; for, truth to
say, he was expecting his favourite, who had promised to relieve the
ennui of a midnight watch with her presence. This man was also ignorant
of English, but he was at no loss to understand why the girl should be
up at that hour. Such things were usual in an Indian village and camp,
where sleep is as irregular as the meals. Then poor Hetty's known
imbecility, as in most things connected with the savages, stood her
friend on this occasion. Vexed at his disappointment, and impatient of
the presence of one he thought an intruder, the young warrior signed
for the girl to move forward, holding the direction of the beach. Hetty
complied; but as she walked away she spoke aloud in English in her usual
soft tones, which the stillness of the night made audible at some little
distance.

"If you took me for a Huron girl, warrior," she said, "I don't wonder
you are so little pleased. I am Hetty Hutter, Thomas Hutter's daughter,
and have never met any man at night, for mother always said it was
wrong, and modest young women should never do it; modest young women of
the pale-faces, I mean; for customs are different in different parts
of the world, I know. No, no; I'm Hetty Hutter, and wouldn't meet even
Hurry Harry, though he should fall down on his knees and ask me! Mother
said it was wrong."

By the time Hetty had said this, she reached the place where the canoes
had come ashore, and, owing to the curvature of the land and the bushes,
would have been completely hid from the sight of the sentinel, had it
been broad day. But another footstep had caught the lover's ear, and he
was already nearly beyond the sound of the girl's silvery voice. Still
Hetty, bent only on her own thoughts and purposes, continued to speak,
though the gentleness of her tones prevented the sounds from penetrating
far into the woods. On the water they were more widely diffused.

"Here I am, Judith," she added, "and there is no one near me. The Huron
on watch has gone to meet his sweetheart, who is an Indian girl you
know, and never had a Christian mother to tell her how wrong it is to
meet a man at night."

Hetty's voice was hushed by a "Hist!" that came from the water, and then
she caught a dim view of the canoe, which approached noiselessly, and
soon grated on the shingle with its bow. The moment the weight of Hetty
was felt in the light craft the canoe withdrew, stern foremost, as if
possessed of