the prisoner an exhibition of feeling derogatory to his dignity.

'An Assineboin has no eyes; he is a burrowing mole,' said one
tauntingly; 'he creeps about the woods like a serpent, and falls into
the trap of the hunters: a beaver is wiser than he. He is very
cunning, but he cannot deceive a Sioux: he is very brave, but he is a
prisoner, and not a wound shows that he struggled. Go; it is a squaw
whom my people have brought in by mistake.'

A general laugh was the reward of the speaker's wit, while the Indian
moved neither eye, limb, nor muscle. The girl, irritated, opened upon
him with all that volubility of tongue which so strongly
characterises their race. It was, however, in vain. The sun in the
heavens was not more unmoved--a marble statue would have been life
behind him--not a look or sound, not a glance, testified that he even
heard what was passing. Wearied at length with their vain efforts,
the bevy rushed forth into the open air, and, joining hands,
commenced, with loud cries and laughter, a dance round the fire.

A deep and heavy respiration was the only sign the Indian gave of
consciousness--his quick and practised senses told him he was not
alone.

'Son of the Evening Light,' said a low and gentle voice, addressing
him by a name which was well known in her tribe as that of their most
dreaded enemy, 'the morning will come, and it will find my brothers
thirsting for blood.'

'The veins of Ah-kre-nay are very full,' replied the warrior calmly;
'they can all drink.'