'is not well; she seeks the woods, to drive away the bad spirit.'

During this brief colloquy the young brave had stepped within the
deep shadow of the tent, his rifle ready cocked. As the girl ceased
speaking, the head of an old warrior was protruded from the wigwam
door.

'Thy sisters have been asleep since the dance was over,' said the
aged Indian; 'why is Peritana awake?'

The girl saw her companion level his rifle--her agitation was
intense. Her feelings were deeply moved on both sides.

'Father,' said she, and the rifle was raised instantly, 'Peritana
goes to the woods; she will not tarry long. Her head is hot; she
cannot sleep now.'

Satisfied with this explanation, the old Sioux retired once more
within the tent, leaving the young warrior and his sad companion to
reach the forest unmolested. Peritana was deeply moved at parting
from her parents, and, but that she knew that death would be her
portion on the discovery of her aiding the escape of Ah-kre-nay,
would gladly have returned to where, as her father had told her, her
sisters slept soundly. The die, however, was cast, and she was now in
the woods, the companion of the runaway.

We must pass over a year of time, and take up our narrative at some
distance from the spot above described. It was a deep dell on the
banks of the upper waters of one of those streams that serve to swell
the Ontario. Perhaps a lovelier spot was never discovered by man. At