eek of June that Malachi, when he was out in the
woods, perceived an Indian, who came toward him. He was a youth of about
twenty or twenty-one years old, tall and slightly made; he carried his
bow and arrows and his tomahawk, but had no gun. Malachi was at that
time sitting down on the trunk of a fallen tree; he was not more than
two miles from the house, and had gone out with his rifle without any
particular intent, unless it was that, as he expected he should soon
receive some communication from the Indians, he wished to give them an
opportunity of speaking to him alone. The Indian came up to where
Malachi was, and took a seat by him, without saying a word.

"Is my son from the West?" said Malachi, in the Indian tongue, after a
silence of one or two minutes.

"The Young Otter is from the West," replied the Indian. "The old men
have told him of the Gray Badger, who has lived the life of a snake, and
who has hunted with the fathers of those who are now old. Does my father
live with the white man?"

"He lives with the white man," replied Malachi; "he has no Indian blood
in his veins."

"Has the white man many in his lodge?" said the Indian.

"Yes; many young men and many rifles," replied Malachi.

The Indian did not continue this conversation, and there was a silence
of some minutes. Malachi was convinced that the young Indian had been
sent to intimate that Percival was alive and in captivity, and he
resolved to wait patiently till he brought up the subject.

"Does not the cold kill the white man?" said the Indian, at last.

"No; the white man can bear the winter's ice as well as an Indian. He
hunts as well, and brings home venison."

"Are all who came here with him now in the white man's lodge?"

"No, not all; one white child slept in the snow, and is in the land of
spirits," replied Malachi.

Here there was a pause in the conversation for some minutes; at last the
young Indian said--

"A little bird sang in my ear, and it said, The white man's child is not
dead; it wandered about in the woods and was lost, and the Indian found
him, and took him to his wigwam in the far west."

"Did not the little bird lie to the Young Otter?" replied Malachi.

"No; the little bird sang what was true," replied the Indian. "The white
boy is alive and in the lodge of the Indian."

"There are many white men in the country who have children," replied
Malachi; "and children are often lost. The little bird may have sung of
t