rs, from the fear that he might betray them to the
unsuspecting whites; and it was not until after the expedition had
departed for the banks of the Susquehanna, that he learned their hostile
intentions towards his friends. He lost no time, but followed rapidly in
their steps, hoping by his representations to induce his people to give
up their murderous purpose, or perhaps, by a short but difficult route
through the mountains, to reach the cottage of Hopedale before them. But
hate is as swift as love in its flight, and as he approached the spot,
and saw the flames mounting up to the sky, he thought himself too late,
and the work of murder and of destruction complete. Just then he heard
little Emily's cries, and rushed in at the peril of his life, to save
the child.

Supposing her parents to be dead, he resolved to take the helpless
little one to his wigwam, and to adopt her as his own. His home was at
the distance of several days' journey from the Susquehanna, in a retired
valley of the Alleghany mountains, and thither, through a dense forest,
he bent his steps. The greater part of the way he carried the child, her
white arm wound round his dusky neck, her fair head lying upon his
shoulder; he dried her tears, he picked berries in the wood to refresh
her, and strove to comfort her little heart, which was very heavy with
sorrow. At last they arrived at his wigwam; his wife Ponawtan, or Wild
Rose, ran out to meet her husband, and great was her wonder at the sight
of his beautiful burden. He said to her:--

"Ponawtan, I have brought you home a child, as the Great Spirit has
taken away our own, and sent them to the good hunting grounds, where
forever they hunt the deer. Take good care of the child, for she is like
a white water-lily, encircled by troubled waters: in our wigwam may she
find rest and peace."

Ponawtan, with a woman's tenderness, took into her arms the trembling,
weeping child, who, with the quick instinct of childhood, soon learned
that she was a friend. The Indian woman understood not even the few
words of English by which Towandahoc made his kind intentions
intelligible, but the language of the heart is a universal one, and in
that she was a proficient. Well was it for little Emily--or Orikama,
White Water-Lily, as she was henceforth called, that she had fallen into
such good hands. Ponawtan was a kind, affectionate being, who had deeply
mourned the loneliness of her cabin; and now that a child was given h