“It’ll be a good chance for me, too,” said Wetzel.  His remark instantly turned attention to himself.

“The idea is absurd,” said Isaac.  “Why, Lew Wetzel, you could not be made to kiss any girl.”

“I would not be backward about it,” said Col.  Zane.

“You have forgotten the fuss you made when the boys were kissing me,” said Mrs. Zane with a fine scorn.

“My dear,” said Col.  Zane, in an aggrieved tone, “I did not make so much of a fuss, as you call it, until they had kissed you a great many times more than was reasonable.”

“Isaac, tell us one thing more,” said Capt.  Boggs.  “How did Myeerah learn of your capture by Cornplanter?  Surely she could not have trailed you?”

“Will you tell us?” said Isaac to Myeerah.

“A bird sang it to me,” answered Myeerah.

“She will never tell, that is certain,” said Isaac.  “And for that reason I believe Simon Girty got word to her that I was in the hands of Cornplanter.  At the last moment when the Indians were lashing me to the stake Girty came to me and said he must have been too late.”

“Yes, Girty might have done that,” said Col.  Zane.  “I suppose, though he dared not interfere in behalf of poor Crawford.”

“Isaac, Can you get Myeerah to talk?  I love to hear her speak,” said Betty, in an aside.

“Myeerah, will you sing a Huron love-song?” said Isaac “Or, if you do not wish to sing, tell a story.  I want them to know how well you can speak our language.”

“What shall Myeerah say?” she said, shyly.

“Tell them the legend of the Standing Stone.”

“A beautiful Indian girl once dwelt in the pine forests,” began Myeerah, with her eyes cast down and her hand seeking Isaac’s.  “Her voice was like rippling waters, her beauty like the rising sun.  From near and from far came warriors to see the fair face of this maiden.  She smiled on them all and they called her Smiling Moon.  Now there lived on the Great Lake a Wyandot chief.  He was young and bold.  No warrior was as great as Tarhe.  Smiling Moon cast a spell on his heart.  He came many times to woo her and make her his wife.  But Smiling Moon said:  ‘Go, do great deeds, an come again.’

“Tarhe searched the east and the west.  He brought her strange gifts from strange lands.  She said:  ‘Go and slay my enemies.’  Tarhe went forth in his war paint and killed the braves who named her Smiling Moon.  He came again to her and she said:  ’Run swifter than the deer, be more cunning than the beaver, dive deeper than the loon.’

“Tarhe passed once more to the island where dwelt Smiling Moon.  The ice was thick, the snow was deep.  Smiling Moon turned not from her warm fire as she said:  ’The chief is a great warrior, but Smiling Moon is not easily won.  It is cold.  Change winter into summer and then Smiling Moon will love him.’

“Tarhe cried in a loud voice to the Great Spirit:  ’Make me a master.’