age.

The party on their return did not travel so rapidly as they had
advanced. They moreover halted in a grove which they espied about
midnight, and finding a spreading tree that had entirely shielded a
small space of ground from the snow, they kindled a fire, arranged
their robes, and reposed a few hours. The captive chief was still
sullen and unresisting. He was suffered to recline in the sled
enveloped in skins, with his hands and feet yet bound, and an extra
cord passed round his body, the end of which Sneak held in his hand
while he slept. When daylight appeared, they set forward again in a
moderate pace, and arrived at Glenn's domicil at evening twilight. The
neighbours that Sneak had enlisted departed for their homes, and Boone
and Col. Cooper, after bidding our hero, Roughgrove, and Mary, a
hearty adieu, without entering the inclosure, recrossed the river to
their own settlement.

The remainder of the party, except the oarsmen, accepted Glenn's
invitation to remain with him till morning. When the gate was thrown
open, the faithful hounds manifested great delight to behold their
master again, and also Mary, for they pranced so much in the path
before them that it was almost impossible to walk. They barked in
ecstasy. The poor fawn had been forgotten, neglected, and had suffered
much for food. Mary placed her arm round its neck and wept. Glenn
ordered Joe, who was in the stable caressing the horses, to feed the
drooping pet instantly.

The party then entered the house, leading in the chief, and soon after
Sneak had a bright fire blazing on the hearth.

The food that remained from the last repast amply sufficed, the
captive refusing to partake with them, and Joe having dined during the
last twelve miles of the journey on the way.

"How we'll be able to keep this Indian here, when we go out, I should
like to know," said Joe, regarding the manly and symmetrical form of
the young chief, who was now unbound, and sat silent and thoughtful by
the fire.

"I think he ought to be killed," said Sneak.

"Oh, no!" said Mary; "he is not bad like the other Indians." The
Indian, for the first time since his capture, raised his head while
she spoke, and looked searchingly in her face. "Oh!" continued Mary,
thinking of the horrors of savage warfare, and bursting into tears,
"you will never attempt to kill any of us again, will you?"

"No!" said the chief, in a low but distinct tone. Every one in the
house but Mary sta