upon the speaker; he met a look bold, open, fearless as his own. "Where can my white brother see warriors?" he inquired.

"Their guns are across yonder log," said Reginald; "and their muzzles are pointed here."

"It is so," said War-Eagle; "the red men are on the war-path; they seek blood; is my white brother not afraid ?"

66

War-Eagle is a chief," replied the young man; "he cannot lie,-he has said that his white brother is as safe as in the wigwam of his father!"

Again the Indian bent a scrutinizing look upon the countenance of the speaker, and again met the same smile of fearless confidence. With more emotion than he had yet shown, he said, "The Great Spirit has given to my white brother the big heart of a Lenape!"

He now made a signal to his ambuscade to come forth, on which they started up from behind the large fallen tree which had hitherto screened them, and advanced slowly towards the camp. They were three in number; two of them active looking men, of moderate sta

ture, but of symmetrical proportions; the third a lad, apparently about seventeen years old; the faces of the two former were painted with black stripes, which gave them an appearance at once fierce and grotesque; they were lightly clad in hunting-shirts, leggins, and mocassins, all of elk-skin, and each carried a tomahawk, scalp-knife, and the gun before mentioned; the young lad carried no other weapon but the gun; his hunting-shirt was fancifully ornamented with tassels of porcupine quills, and was fastened at the waist by a belt studded with party-coloured beads; his leggins were fringed, and his mocassins were also braided with the quills of the porcupine; in figure he was slight and tall; as he drew near, Reginald thought his countenance even more remarkable than that of War-Eagle; indeed its beauty would have been almost effeminate, had it not been for the raven blackness of the hair, and the piercing fire of the dark eyes. The three came forward in silence, the lad being rather in advance of the others, and stood before the War-Eagle.

He bade them in his own language to be seated, and smoke the pipe with the white men. They did so, with the exception of the lad, who not being yet a warrior, passed it untouched; and when it had gone round, War-Eagle harangued his party; as he narrated the events of the morning, Reginald was struck by the deep and flexible modulation of his voice; and although he did not understand a word of the language, fancied that he knew when the chief related his immersion and subsequent preservation by the white man's knife.

At this portion of the tale, the Indian youth made no attempt to conceal his emotion; his glistening eyes were fixed upon the speaker, and every feature of his intelligent countenance beamed with affectionate interest: as War-Eagle described his being struck under water, stunned by a blow from a horse's foot, and that the thick water covered him, a hurried exclamation escaped from the boy's lips; and when his chief related how the white warrior had dived, had cut the cord in which he was entangled, and had brought him again to the

air and to life, the youth, no longer able to control his feelings, threw himself into Reginald's arms, exclaiming in good English,

"The Great Spirit reward the white warrior: he has given me back my chief-my brother!"

Our hero was no less astonished than was the guide, at such uncontrolled emotion in a youth of a nation so early taught to conceal their feelings; nor were they less surprised at the clearness and purity of accent with which he expressed himself in English.

"I only did, my boy," said Reginald, kindly, "what you would have done had you been in my place."

"You are a great warrior," said the youth, running his eye over the powerful frame beside him: "Wingenund would have gone into the strong river, and would have died with the War-Eagle."

"Is Wingenund, then, your name, my brave boy?"

"It was my forefather's name," said the youth, proudly. "I have yet no name: but

War-Eagle says I may have one soon, and I

will have no other."

"I feel sure you will deserve your forefather's name," said Reginald.

it mean in my language?"

"What does

"The youth speaks true," murmured the guide, (who, though busily engaged in rounding off a bullet with his knife, lost not a word or gesture that passed,) "he speaks only truth; I knew his forefather well: a braver and a better heart never dwelt among the Lenapé."

The boy looked gratefully at the weatherbeaten hunter; and as he cast his eyes down in silence, it would have been difficult to say whether pleasure, pride, or pain predominated in their expression.

"Tell me," resumed Reginald,

"how come

you to speak English like a white man ?"

"The good-father and Olitipa taught me." Reginald looked at the guide for an explanation; that worthy personage shook his head, saying, "The boy talks riddles; but they are not hard to guess. The good-father must be