‘An Assineboin has no eyes; he is a burrowing mole,’ said one tauntingly; ’he creeps about the woods like a serpent, and falls into the trap of the hunters:  a beaver is wiser than he.  He is very cunning, but he cannot deceive a Sioux:  he is very brave, but he is a prisoner, and not a wound shows that he struggled.  Go; it is a squaw whom my people have brought in by mistake.’

A general laugh was the reward of the speaker’s wit, while the Indian moved neither eye, limb, nor muscle.  The girl, irritated, opened upon him with all that volubility of tongue which so strongly characterises their race.  It was, however, in vain.  The sun in the heavens was not more unmoved—­a marble statue would have been life behind him—­not a look or sound, not a glance, testified that he even heard what was passing.  Wearied at length with their vain efforts, the bevy rushed forth into the open air, and, joining hands, commenced, with loud cries and laughter, a dance round the fire.

A deep and heavy respiration was the only sign the Indian gave of consciousness—­his quick and practised senses told him he was not alone.

‘Son of the Evening Light,’ said a low and gentle voice, addressing him by a name which was well known in her tribe as that of their most dreaded enemy, ’the morning will come, and it will find my brothers thirsting for blood.’

‘The veins of Ah-kre-nay are very full,’ replied the warrior calmly; ‘they can all drink.’

‘The Son of the Evening Light is very brave,’ said the other hurriedly, and in tones which exhibited strong feeling; ’but life is very sweet.  Would he hunt again in the forest?—­would his hand once more strike the grizzly bear?’

Suspecting some deep and cunning artifice of his enemies beneath this unmistakable offer of escape on the part of the fair Peritana, the Indian was sternly silent; though the tones which truth assumes are so powerful and expressive, that he felt almost convinced at heart she was sincere.  The young maiden probably understood his doubts, and therefore spoke no more, but with quick and ready hands placed a knife before him, and, cutting the bonds, left him free.

‘My sister is very kind,’ said the young warrior warmly, after giving vent to the guttural ugh! the jocund laugh and the romping of the dancers permitting conversation—­’and Ah-kre-nay will remember her in his dreams.’  With this the Assineboin turned towards the entrance of the wigwam.

The Sioux girl replied not, but, pointing to the throng without, and then passing her hand significantly round her head, folded her arms, and stood resignedly before the youth.

’Would the Sioux maiden leave her tribe and tread the woods with an Assineboin?’ said the warrior curiously.

’Peritana will die if the Assineboin warrior be found to have escaped, and Peritana would rather live in the woods than in the happy hunting-ground.’

The Assineboin now felt sure that his youth, his appearance, or, at all events, his probable fate, had excited the sympathies of his visitor, and gratitude at once created in him a desire to know more of his fair friend.