pulous village stood
where the red deer roved on his trackless path. The white sails of the
laden barque gleamed on the water, where erst floated the stealthy canoe
of the savage; and a pious throng offered their aspirations where the
war-whoop had rung on the air.

Alice was to spend the remaining days of her maiden life with a young
friend, a few miles from her father's, and they were to return together
on her bridal eve. William Douglas accompanied Alice on her walk to the
house of her friend. They parted within a few steps of the house.
William returned home, and Alice, gay and gladsome as a bird, entered a
piece of wood, which led directly to the house. Scarcely had she entered
it when she was seized by a strong arm; her mouth was gagged, and
something thrown over her head; she was then borne rapidly down the bank
of the river, and laid in a canoe. She heard no voices, and the swift
motion of the canoe rendered her unconscious. How long the journey
lasted she knew not. At length she found herself, on recovering from
partial insensibility, in a rude hut, with a frightful-looking Indian
squaw bathing her hands, while another held a blazing torch of pine
above her head. Their hideous faces, frightful as the imagery of a
dream, scared Alice, and she fainted again.

The injuries which Kenneth Gordon had suffered from the savages made him
shudder at the name of Indian--and neither he nor his family ever held
converse with those who traded in the village. Metea, a chief of the
Menomene Indians, in his frequent trading expeditions to the village,
had often seen Alice, and became enamoured of the village beauty. He had
long watched an opportunity of stealing her, and bearing her away to his
tribe, where he made no doubt of winning her love. When Alice recovered
the squaws left her, and Metea entered the hut; he commenced by telling
her of the great honour in being allowed to share the hut of Metea, a
"brave" whose bow was always strung, whose tomahawk never missed its
blow, and whose scalps were as numerous as the stars in the path-way of
ghosts; and he pointed to the grisly trophies hung in the smoke of the
cabin. He concluded by giving her furs and strings of beads, with which
the squaws decorated her, and the next morning the trembling girl was
led from the hut, and lifted into a circle formed of the warriors of the
tribe. Here Metea stood forth and declared his deeds of bravery, and
asked their consent for "the flower