eral visits
between members of the two tribes, she had become very familiar with the
camp. All ignorant of the poor maniac's arrival, for the news had not
yet spread, the mother of Little Beaver sat embroidering a moccasin with
dyed quill-work. The traces of profound grief were on her worn face,
and her meek eyes were dim as she raised them to see who lifted the
curtain of the tent so violently.

Only one word was uttered by Rising Sun as she sprang in and fell on her
knees before the old woman:--"Mother!"

No cry was uttered, not even an expression of surprise moved the old
woman's face; but her ready arms were extended, and the girl laid her
head, with a long-drawn sigh, upon the old bosom.

Long did she lie there that night, while a tender hand smoothed her
coal-black hair, and pressed the thin cheek to a warm throbbing heart,
which feared to move lest the girl's rest should be disturbed; but there
was no need to fear that. Even the loving old heart could no longer
warm the cheek that was slowly but surely growing cold. When the face
was at last turned anxiously towards the firelight it was seen that a
rest which could not be disturbed had been found at last--for Rising Sun
was dead.

While this solemn scene was enacting in the old mother's tent, a very
different one was taking place in the cave prison, where the captives
still sat, bound hand and foot leaning against the wall.

Captain Trench and his son sat in front of them. A small fire burned in
the cave, the smoke of which found an exit among the crevices of the
high roof. It cast a lurid light on the faces of the men and on
projections of the wall, but left the roof in profound darkness.

The captain was still much excited, for the moment for his desperate
venture was rapidly approaching.

"Now, Grummidge," he said, in a low but earnest voice, "it's of no use
your objectin' any more, for I've made up my mind to do it."

"Which means," returned the seaman, "that for the sake of savin' my
life, you're a-goin' to risk your own and the lives of all consarned.
Now it's my opinion that as the sayin' goes, of two evils a man should
choose the least. It's better that I should die quietly than that the
whole of us should die fightin', and, maybe, killin' savages as well,
which would be of no manner of use, d'ye see. I can only die once, you
know, so I advise ye to give it up, an' leave the whole matter in the
hands of Providence."

"Not at all," said