“Yes—­squaw soft heart—­Nick know—­had moder—­had wife, once—­had darter.”

“Very well; this will be an advantage, men, as Nick is the only married man among us; and married men should best understand dealing with females.”

Joyce then held a private communication with the Tuscarora, that lasted some five or six minutes, when the last leaped nimbly into the bed of the stream, and was soon concealed by the bushes of one of its reaches.

Chapter XXVI.

  “Heart leaps to heart—­the sacred flood
  That warms us is the same;
  That good old man—­his honest blood
  Alike we fondly claim.”

  Sprague.

Although Nick commenced his progress with so much seeming zeal and activity, his speed abated, the moment he found himself beyond the sight of those he had left in the woods.  Before he reached the foot of the cliff, his trot had degenerated to a walk; and when he actually found he was at its base, he seated himself on a stone, apparently to reflect on the course he ought to pursue.

The countenance of the Tuscarora expressed a variety of emotions while he thus remained stationary.  At first, it was fierce, savage, exulting; then it became gentler, soft, perhaps repentant.  He drew his knife from its buckskin sheath, and eyed the blade with a gaze expressive of uneasiness.  Perceiving that a clot of blood had collected at the junction with the handle, it was carefully removed by the use of water.  His look next passed over his whole person, in order to ascertain if any more of these betrayers of his fearful secret remained; after which he seemed more at ease.

“Wyandotte’s back don’t ache now,” he growled to himself.  “Ole sore heal up.  Why Cap’in touch him?  T’ink Injin no got feelin’?  Good man, sometime; bad man, sometime.  Sometime, live; sometime, die.  Why tell Wyandotte he flog ag’in, just as go to enemy’s camp?  No; back feel well, now—­nebber smart, any more.”

When this soliloquy was ended, Nick arose, cast a look up at the sun, to ascertain how much of the day still remained, glanced towards the Hut, as if examining the nature of its defences, stretched himself like one who was weary, and peeped out from behind the bushes, in order to see how those who were afield, still occupied themselves.  All this done, with singular deliberation and steadiness, he arranged his light dress, and prepared to present himself before the wife and daughters of the man, whom, three hours before, he had remorselessly murdered.  Nick had often meditated this treacherous deed, during the thirty years which had elapsed between his first flogging and the present period; but circumstances had never placed its execution safely in his power.  The subsequent punishments had increased the desire, for a few years; but time had so far worn off the craving for revenge, that it would never have been actively revived, perhaps, but for the unfortunate