came upon the Shawnees at a
full run, Captain Prescott panting and still at their head, vainly
endeavoring to keep them in line and to make them aim and fire
together. The missionary and Lieutenant Canfield took in the state of
affairs at once. Niniotan was unhurt, and now came forward, his face
as rigid as marble. Swelled to nearly bursting as was his heart, he
endeavored to obey the instructions of his father, and show himself a
warrior, by concealing his emotion to those around him. The man of God
instantly ran to the prostrate Huron and his wife, the latter managing
to maintain a sitting position with great difficulty. He saw both were
mortally wounded and would soon die. Oonomoo lay flat upon his back,
breathing heavily, while the copious pools of blood around him showed
how numerous and severe were his wounds. Lieutenant Canfield lifted
his head, while the missionary supported Fluellina. The latter opened
her languid eyes, which instantly brightened as she recognized her
noble friend, and said in a low, sweet voice, speaking English
perfectly: "I am glad you have come, father. Oonomoo and Fluellina are
dying. We want you to smooth the way for us to the Bright Land."

"The way is already smoothed, my child, so that your feet can tread it.
Can I do anything to relieve your pain?"

"No; my body suffers, but my heart is on fire with joy. Please attend
to Oonomoo," said Fluellina, looking toward him.

The Huron was so close to his wife, that by taking a position between
them, the missionary was enabled to support both. Raising their heads
with the assistance of Lieutenant Canfield and Captain Prescott, he
laid them upon his lap in close proximity to each other. The men stood
silent and affected witnesses of the scene. Brushing the luxuriant
hair from the face of the dying Indian, the preacher said:

"Oonomoo, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Where be Niniotan?"

"Here," responded the boy, approaching him.

"Stand where you be, and see a Christian warrior die," he commanded, in
his native tongue. "Where is Fluellina's hand?"

The affectionate wife heard the inquiry, and instantly closed her hand
in his. He held it, in loving embrace. The missionary spread a
blanket over the body and limbs of the Huron, so as to hide his
frightful wounds from sight. A single stream, tiny, crimson and
glistening, wound down from the shoulder of Fluellina, over her bare
arm, to her waist, where it fell in r