“Yes; he promised an early return.”

“He will probably make his appearance in the course of an hour or so.  Watch him closely.  I will be back sooner to-day, and we shall probe this matter to the bottom.  Good-by!”

Again he embraced his wife, and then strode rapidly across the Clearing in the direction of the woods.  His wife watched his form winding in and out among the trees, until it finally disappeared from view; and then, waiting a few moments longer, as if loth to withdraw her gaze from the spot where she had last seen him, she finally turned within the house to engage in her domestic duties.

The thrifty housewife has seldom an idle moment on her hands, and Cora passed hither and thither, performing the numerous little acts that were not much in themselves, but collectively were necessary, if not indispensable, in her household management.  Occasionally she paused and bent over her child, that lay sleeping on the bed, and like a fond mother, could not restrain herself from softly touching her lips to its own, although it was at the imminent risk of awaking it.

An hour passed.  She went to the door and looked out to see whether Teddy was in sight; but the woods were as silent as if they contained no living thing.  Far away over the river, nearly opposite the Indian village, she saw two canoes crossing the stream, resembling ordinary-sized water-birds in the distance.  These, so in harmony with the lazy, sunshiny afternoon, were all that gave evidence that man had ever invaded this solitude.

Cora Richter could but be cheerful, and, as she moved to and fro, she sung a hymn, one that was always her husband’s favorite.  She sung it unconsciously, from her very blithesomeness of spirits, not knowing she was making music which the birds themselves might have envied.

All at once her ear caught the sound of a footstep, and confident that Teddy had come, she turned her face toward the door to greet him.  She uttered a slight scream, as she saw, instead of the honest Hibernian, the form of a towering, painted savage, glaring in upon her.

Ordinarily such a visitor would have occasioned her no surprise or alarm.  In fact, it was rare that a day passed without some Indian visiting the cabin—­either to consult with the missionary himself, or merely to rest a few moments.  Sometimes several called together, and it often happened that they came while none but the wife was at home.  They were always treated kindly, and were respectful and pleased in turn.  During the nights in winter, when the storm howled through the forest, a light burned at the missionary’s window, and many a savage, who belonged often to a distant tribe, had knocked at the door and secured shelter until morning.  Ordinarily we say, then, the visit of an Indian gave the young wife no alarm.

But there was something in the appearance of this painted sinewy savage that filled her with dread.  There was a treacherous look in his black eyes, and a sinister expression visible in spite of vermilion and ocher, that made her shrink from him, as she would have shrunk from some loathsome monster.