yells of savages, and saw them like so many demons dancing round the
flames; then hush, all again was still, and darkness brooded over the
spot, lighted only by a flickering brand.

The bosom of Holden heaved convulsively, and his brain reeled.

The Indian watched his changing countenance with an eager look as
if he revelled in his agony. Not a hard drawn breath, not a single
expression escaped his notice. He saw the eyes of the Solitary flash,
then settle into a dreamy gaze as if looking into a dim, unfathomable
distance, then shut, as if he tried to exclude some horrid sight.
Suddenly, with a shudder, Holden sprang to his feet.

"Accursed Shawnees," he cried; "they have done this deed. But for
every drop of blood they shed a river shall flow. Dog!" and he seized
the Indian with a strength to which madness lent additional force, and
dashed him to the ground, "thou art first delivered into my hand."

He staggered toward the fallen man--stopped--glared at him a moment
and with a wild cry rushed into the hut.

The Indian, who had immediately risen from the fall, and stood with
folded arms regarding his motions, slowly gathered up his disordered
blanket about him and stalked towards the canoe. A gleam of ferocity
shot over his face as he resumed the paddle, and softly breathing the
single word "Onontio," pushed from the shore.