, and spending a minute in a fruitless
inquiry into the character of her rider, he shook his head and returned
to Heyward.

"A Mingo is a Mingo, and God having made him so, neither the Mohawks nor
any other tribe can alter him," he said, when he had regained his former
position. "If we were alone, and you would leave that noble horse at the
mercy of the wolves to-night, I could show you the way to Edward,
myself, within an hour, for it lies only about an hour's journey hence;
but with such ladies in your company 'tis impossible!"

"And why? they are fatigued, but they are quite equal to a ride of a few
more miles."

"'Tis a natural impossibility!" repeated the scout; "I wouldn't walk a
mile in these woods after night gets into them, in company with that
runner, for the best rifle in the colonies. They are full of outlying
Iroquois, and your mongrel Mohawk knows where to find them too well, to
be my companion."

"Think you so?" said Heyward, leaning forward in the saddle, and
dropping his voice nearly to a whisper; "I confess I have not been
without my own suspicions, though I have endeavored to conceal them, and
affected a confidence I have not always felt, on account of my
companions. It was because I suspected him that I would follow no
longer; making him, as you see, follow me."

"I knew he was one of the cheats as soon as I laid eyes on him!"
returned the scout, placing a finger on his nose, in sign of caution.
"The thief is leaning against the foot of the sugar sapling, that you
can see over them bushes; his right leg is in a line with the bark of
the tree, and," tapping his rifle, "I can take him from where I stand,
between the ankle and the knee, with a single shot, putting an end to
his tramping through the woods, for at least a month to come. If I
should go back to him, the cunning varmint would suspect something, and
be dodging through the trees like a frightened deer."

"It will not do. He may be innocent, and I dislike the act. Though, if I
felt confident of his treachery--"

"'Tis a safe thing to calculate on the knavery of an Iroquois," said the
scout, throwing his rifle forward, by a sort of instinctive movement.

"Hold!" interrupted Heyward, "it will not do--we must think of some
other scheme; and yet, I have much reason to believe the rascal has
deceived me."

The hunter, who had already abandoned his intention of maiming the
runner, mused a moment, and then made a gesture, which instantly br