cting under the impulse of the rider. Mine was a
feeling of simple astonishment. Such an apparition in that place, and
at that hour, was sufficient cause for surprise; but a more definite
reason was, my observing that a different emotion had been roused in the
breast of the young hunter. His looks betrayed fear, rather than
surprise! "Fear of what?" I asked myself, as the figure advanced; and
still more emphatically as it came near enough to enable me to make out
the face. As far as the moonlight would permit me to judge, there was
nothing in that face to fray either man or horse: certainly nothing to
create an emotion, such as was depicted in the countenance of my
companion.

The complexion was brown, as already observed; but the features, if not
of the finest type, were yet comely enough to attract admiration; and
they were lit up by a pair of eyes, whose liquid glance rivalled the
sheen of the golden pendants sparkling on each side of them. I should
have been truly astonished at the behaviour of my guide, but for the
natural reflection, that there was some cause for it, yet unknown to me.
Evidently, it was not his first interview with the forest maiden: for I
could now perceive that the person who approached was not exactly a
woman, but rather a well-grown girl on the eve of womanhood. She was of
large stature, nevertheless, with bold outline of breast, and arms that
gave token of something more than feminine strength. In truth, she
appeared possessed of a _physique_ sufficiently formidable to inspire a
cowardly man with fear--had such been her object--but I could perceive
no signs of menace in her manner. Neither could cowardice be an
attribute of my travelling-companion. There was an unexplained
something, therefore, to account for his present display of emotion.

On arriving within six paces of the heads of our horses, the Indian
paused, as if hesitating to advance. Up to this time, she had not
spoken a word. Neither had my companion--beyond a phrase or two that
had involuntarily escaped him, on first discovering her presence in the
glade. "She here? an' at this time o' night!" I had heard him mutter
to himself; but nothing more, until the girl had stopped, as described.
Then, in a low voice, and with a slightly trembling accent, he
pronounced interrogatively, the words "Su-wa-nee?" It was the name of
the Indian maiden; but there was no reply.

"Su-wa-nee!" repeated he, in a louder tone, "is it y