to the table, and gazed at the face of his victim
with a coldness that proved he felt no compunction. Still he hesitated
about touching the body, actually raising his hand, as if with that
intent, and then withdrawing it, like one stung by conscience.
Willoughby noted the act; and, for the first time, a shadowy suspicion
glanced on his mind. Maud had told him all she knew of the manner of
his father's death, and old distrusts began to revive, though so
faintly as to produce no immediate results.

As for the Indian, the hesitating gesture excepted, the strictest
scrutiny, or the keenest suspicion could have detected no signs of
feeling. The senseless form before him was not less moved than he
appeared to be, so far as the human eye could penetrate. Wyandotte
_was_ unmoved. He believed that, in curing the sores on his own back
in this particular manner, he had done what became a Tuscarora warrior
and a chief. Let not the self-styled Christians of civilized society
affect horror at this instance of savage justice, so long as they go
the whole length of the law of their several communities, in avenging
their own fancied wrongs, using the dagger of calumny instead of the
scalping-knife, and rending and tearing _their_ victims, by the
agency of gold and power, like so many beasts of the field, in all the
forms and modes that legal vindictiveness will either justify or
tolerate; often exceeding those broad limits, indeed, and seeking
impunity behind perjuries and frauds.

Nick's examination of the body was neither hurried nor agitated. When
it was over, he turned calmly to consider the daughters of the
deceased.

"Why you cry--why you 'fear'd," he said, approaching Beulah, and
placing his swarthy hand on the head of her sleeping infant.--"Good
squaw--good pappoose. Wyandotte take care 'em in woods. Bye'm-by go to
pale-face town, and sleep quiet."

This was rudely said, but it was well meant. Beulah so received it; and
she endeavoured to smile her gratitude in the face of the very being
from whom, more than from all of earth, she would have turned in
horror, could her mental vision have reached the fearful secret that
lay buried in his own bosom. The Indian understood her look; and making
a gesture of encouragement, he moved to the side of the woman whom his
own hand had made a widow.

The appearance of Wyandotte produced no change in the look or manner of
the matron. The Indian took her hand, and spoke.

"Squaw _berry