“Thee is a good maid,” said Nathan, surveying her with, an interest that became mournful as he spoke.  “When thee goes back to thee father’s house, thee will find them that will gladden at thee coming; and hearts will yearn with joy over thee young and lovely looks.  Thee will smile upon them, and they will be happy.  Such,” he added, with deep emotion, “such might have been my fate, had the Injun axe spared me but a single child.  But it is not so; there is none left to look upon me with smiles and rejoicing,—­none to welcome me from the field and the forest with the voice of love—­no, truly, truly,—­there is not one,—­not one.”  And as he spoke, his voice faltered, his lip quivered, and his whole countenance betrayed the workings of a bereaved and mourning spirit.

“Think not of this,” said Roland, deeply affected, as his cousin also was, by this unexpected display of feeling in the rude wanderer:  “the gratitude of those you have so well served, shall be to you in place of a child’s affection.  We will never forget our obligations.  Come with us, Nathan,—­come with us.”

But Nathan, ashamed of the weakness which he could not resist, had turned away to conceal his emotion; and, stalking silently off, with the ever-faithful Peter at his heels, was soon hidden from their eyes.

The Virginian never saw his wild comrade again.  Neither Nathan’s habits nor inclinations carried him often into the society of his fellow-men, where reproaches and abuse were sure to meet him.  Insult and contumely were, indeed, no longer to be dreaded by the unresisting wanderer, after the extraordinary proofs of courage which he had that day given.  But, apparently, he now found as little to relish in encomiums passed on his valour as in the invectives to which he had been formerly exposed.  He stole away, therefore, into the woods, abandoning the army altogether, and was no more seen during the march.

But Roland did not doubt be should behold him again at Bruce’s Station, where he soon found himself, with his kinswoman, in safety; and where,—­now happily able to return to the land of his birth and the home of his ancestors,—­he remained during a space of two or three weeks, waiting the arrival of a strong band of Virginia rangers, who (their term of military service on the frontier having expired) were on the eve of returning to Virginia, and with whom he designed seeking protection for his own little party.  During all this period he impatiently awaited the re-appearance of Nathan, but in vain; and as he was informed, and indeed, from Nathan’s own admissions, knew, that the latter had no fixed place of abode, he saw that it was equally vain to attempt hunting him up in the forest.  In short, he was compelled to depart on his homeward journey,—­a journey happily accomplished in safety,—­without again seeing him; but not until he had left with the commander of the Station a goodly store of such articles of comfort and necessity as he thought would prove acceptable to his solitary friend.