in Willoughby had ceased to breathe.

Such had been the act of the man who now passed through the opening of
the palisade, and entered the former habitation of his victim. A
profound stillness reigned in and around the Hut, and no one appeared
to question the unexpected intruder. Nick passed, with his noiseless
step, round to the gate, which he found secured. It was necessary to
knock, and this he did in a way effectually to bring a porter.

"Who dere?" demanded the elder Pliny, from within.

"Good friend--open gate. Come wid message from cap'in."

The natural distaste to the Indians which existed among the blacks of
the Knoll, included the Tuscarora. This disgust was mingled with a
degree of dread; and it was difficult for beings so untutored and
ignorant, at all times to draw the proper distinctions between Indian
and Indian. In _their_ wonder-loving imaginations, Oneidas,
Tuscaroras, Mohawks, Onondagas, and Iroquois were all jumbled together
in inextricable confusion, a red man being a red man, and a savage a
savage. It is not surprising, therefore, that Pliny the elder should
hesitate about opening the gate, and admitting one of the detested
race, though a man so well known to them all, in the peculiar situation
of the family. Luckily, Great Smash happened to be near, and her
husband called her to the gate by one of the signals that, was much
practised between them.

"Who you t'ink out-dere?" asked Pliny the elder of his consort, with a
very significant look.

"How you t'ink guess, ole Plin?--You 'spose nigger wench like Albonny
wise woman, dat she see t'rough a gate, and know ebbery t'ing, and
little more!"

"Well, _dat_ Sassy Nick. What you say _now?_"

"You sartain, ole Plin?" asked Mistress Smash, with a face ominous of
evil.

"Sartain as ear. Talk wid him--he want to come in. What you t'ink?"

"Nebber open gate, ole Plin, till mistress tell you. You stay here--
dere; lean ag'in gate wid all you might; dere; now I go call Miss Maud.
She all alone in librarim, and will know what best. Mind you lean ag'in
gate well, ole Plin."

Pliny the elder nodded assent, placed his shoulders resolutely against
the massive timbers, and stood propping a defence that would have made
a respectable resistance to a battering-ram, like another Atlas,
upholding a world. His duty was short, however, his 'lady' soon
returning with Maud, who was hastening breathlessly to learn the news.

"Is it you, Nick?" called out the s