“The hunt went on again until the snow came; and when the pale men left the lodge, Luella was lost from the wigwam.  The warriors went in pursuit, but they came back without Luella.  She was not with the pale-faces.  Many moons came and went, and one night I heard a voice singing in the distance.  I knew it was Luella, and she led a child by her side, and he said soft English words.  She would not come into the lodge.  She only came to tell me that she was with the white man who loved her, that she was content, and to show me her boy; and Luella walked away into the night again, and I told no one.

“I made many moccasons, and wove baskets of twigs; and when Uncas, the chief of the tribe, my father, went to the great hunting-ground beyond the Sun, then I gathered up my moccasons, and went out before the gate opened to let the light through.  I left the wigwam for Luella.  I hated white people; I hated the white man who stole Luella from me; but the pale-faces took my moccasons, and gave me white wampum, and with that I crossed the lake, and went from town to town, and everywhere I showed the people this,”—­and the wrinkled woman extended her hand to me; but, at the instant, Saul lifted the tent-curtain and came in.  She hid her hand under her blanket, and, wrapping it closely about her, walked out without a glance to testify that ever she had spoken.

Saul asked me the cause of this visit, and I was about to tell him, when there arose in the lodges without such screams and cries as brought all the population into the air.  The Indian woman who so lately had left my tent lay on the ground, in the apparent extreme of agony.

“Let the pale-face come,” said the knot of savages around her; “it is for her she calls.”

My husband interpreted the words for me, and in doubt and fear I went to her.  Her screams had ceased; she held her hands tightly over her heart, as if there had been the spasms of pain.  She rolled her eyes around to see if any one was within hearing, and then said,—­

“I had fear that you would tell him; stay a little, and let me tell you now.  I went on after Luella until I found her.  I had the name of the white man to guide me.  She was living as the pale-faces live, in a great town of many lodges.

“I saw with my eyes that she was happy, and then I walked many moons back to the Huron, and rowed across the lake in a canoe that I found in the woods.

“Luella came back again.  I don’t know how she found the way alone, but she came into the wigwam when the leaves were falling, and before the buds grew again she went to Uncas in the West.  I asked her about the white man, and she shook her head and hid her eyes.  I asked her for the boy, and she threw open her arms wide, to show me he was not there.  Look!” said the woman, “I am dying; I’m very old; I ought to have walked with Luella this long time.  Listen,—­let me teach you.  The pale face that you look into has eyes like my Luella.  Take care!  When he would walk under the stars alone, go not with him.  When he would hunt bison, give him all the prairie; don’t stand at the wigwam-door to keep him in.  And when you are far away beyond my people, you may see this,”—­and she handed to me the small parcel from close to her wild heart.  I took it.