“What a large bold animal it is,” remarked Clara, in die tone of one who wishes to be confirmed in an impression but indifferently entertained.  “See how close it approaches the boat!  Mad that lazy sailor but his wits about him, he might easily knock it on the head with his oar.  It is—­it is a beaver, Madeline; I can distinguish its head even with the naked eye.”

“Heaven grant it may be a beaver,” answered Miss de Haldimar, in a voice so deep and full of meaning, that it made her cousin startle and turn paler even than before.  “Nay, Clara, dearest, command yourself, nor give way to what may, after all, prove a groundless cause of alarm.  Yet, I know not how it is, my heart misgives me sadly; for I like not the motions of this animal, which are strangely and unusually bold.  But this is not all:  a beaver or a rat might ruffle the mere surface of the water, yet this leaves behind it a deep and gurgling furrow, as if the element had been ploughed to its very bottom.  Observe how the lake is agitated and discoloured wherever it has passed.  Moreover, I dislike this sudden bustle on board the schooner, knowing, as I do, there is not an officer present to order the movements now visibly going forward.  The men are evidently getting up the anchor; and see how her sails are loosened, apparently courting the breeze, as if she would fly to avoid some threatened danger.  Would to Heaven this council scene were over; for I do, as much as yourself, dearest Clara, distrust these cruel Indians!”

A significant gesture from her trembling cousin again drew her attention from the vessel to the boat.  The animal, which now exhibited the delicate and glossy fur of the beaver, had gained the stern, and remained stationary within a foot of her quarter.  Presently the sailor made a sluggish movement, turning himself heavily on his side, and with his face towards his curious and daring visitant.  In the act the tarpaulin hat had fallen from his eyes, but still he awoke not.  Scarcely had he settled himself in his new position, when, to the infinite horror of the excited cousins, a naked human hand was raised from beneath the surface of the lake, and placed upon the gunwale of the boat Then rose slowly, and still covered with its ingenious disguise, first the neck, then the shoulders, and finally the form, even to the midwaist, of a dark and swarthy Indian, who, stooping low and cautiously over the sailor, now reposed the hand that had quitted the gunwale upon his form, while the other was thrust searchingly into the belt encircling his waist.

Miss de Haldimar would have called out, to apprise the unhappy man of his danger; but her voice refused its office, and her cousin was even less capable of exertion than herself.  The deep throbbings of their hearts were now audible to each; for the dreadful interest they took in the scene, had excited their feelings to the most intense stretch of agony.  At the very moment, however, when, with almost suspended