The son of the Huron warrior bowed his head as if he had nothing to say to the merited rebuke.  The father took his seat in the canoe of his son, who carried him rapidly forward through the swamp, for perhaps a quarter of a mile further, when the ground became so solid that they landed and walked upon it.  The grass was green and luxuriant, the trees stood close together, and in some places the shrubbery seemed almost impenetrable.  But Niniotan never hesitated.  The way was perfectly familiar.  A rabbit could scarcely have glided through the wood with more dexterity than did he and his father.

Finally the two reached what appeared to be a large mound of earth, covered over with rank grass and brilliant flowers.  On one side was a perfect bank of bushes, so that the mound could not be seen until it was closely approached.  A Shawnee Indian might have encamped beside it, without once having his suspicion awakened in regard to its nature.  This was the retreat and home of Oonomoo, the friendly Huron, where his wife, Fluellina, and son, Niniotan, dwelt, which was regularly visited by him, and where he frequently spent days, enjoying the sweets of home.  No living person besides these three knew of its existence.  It stood upon this vast island in the midst of this swamp, almost inaccessible to approach, and where no one would have dreamed of looking for the dwelling place of a human being.  The surrounding waters were as cold and clear as crystal, and were swarming with the choicest fish.  Abundance of game was upon the land, and, what might seem curious, considering the location of the island, its air possessed an extraordinary degree of salubrity.

The mound was but a mere shell, the interior of which was lined with luxurious furs and skins, and furnished with every convenience and comfort that the fancy of a warrior’s wife might covet.  Within, too, were numerous presents, such as rifles, knives, pistols, beads and picture-books which had been given Oonomoo by his numerous white friends.  In addition there was a magnificent gold watch—­a gift from a wealthy lady, whose life the Huron had saved several years before.  Hearing that he had a young wife, she sent the present to her, and it had hung within their “wigwam” ever since.  Its use was understood, and it was regularly wound and attended to with great care.

Fluellina, the wife of Oonomoo, was also a Huron, who had been educated at one of the Moravian missionary stations in the West, and was a professing Christian.  She was a mild, dove-eyed creature, a number of years younger than her husband, whom she loved almost to adoration, and for whom she would not have hesitated to lay down her life at any moment.  She had had another child—­a boy, born two years before Niniotan, but he had died when but six years of age, and was buried in the clear depths of the water which surrounded his home.