pale when
they hear of him, and who when they see him become dead--or run away!"

Here, then, was a discovery that was almost too much for the unfortunate
captive, for this man was the deadly foe of her father and of her
brother's father-in-law, Bounding Bull. He was also the sworn enemy of
her tribe, and it now became her stern duty, as a true child of the
western wilderness, to hate with all her soul the man whom she loved!

Under the impulse of her powerful feelings she sat down, covered her
face with her little hands, and--no, she did not burst into tears! Had
she been a civilised beauty perhaps she might have done so, but she
struggled for a considerable time with Spartan-like resolution to crush
down the true feelings of her heart. Old Umqua was quite pleased with
the effect of her information, ascribing it as she did to a wrong cause,
and felt disposed to be friendly with the captive in consequence.

"My son has carried you off from the camp of some enemy, I doubt not?"
she said, in kindly tones.

Moonlight, who had by that time recovered her composure, replied that he
had--from the camp of Bounding Bull, whose little daughter he had
captured at the same time, and added that she herself was a daughter of
Little Tim.

It was now Umqua's turn to be surprised.

"What is that you tell me?" she exclaimed. "Are you the child of the
little pale-face whose name extends from the regions of snow to the
lands of the hot sun?"

"I am," replied Moonlight, with a look of pride quite equal to and
rather more lovely than that of the old woman.

"Ha!" exclaimed Umqua, "you are a lucky girl. I see by my son's look
and manner that he intends to take you for his wife. I suppose he has
gone away just now, for I saw he was in haste, to scalp your father, and
your brother, and Bounding Bull, and all his tribe. After that he will
come home and take you to his wigwam. Rushing River is very brave and
very kind to women. The men laugh at him behind his back--they dare not
laugh before his face--and say he is too kind to them; but we women
don't agree with that. We know better, and we are fondest of the kind
men, for we see that they are not less brave than the others. Yes, you
are a lucky girl."

Moonlight was not as deeply impressed with her "luck" as the old lady
expected, and was on the point of bursting out, after the manner of
savages, into a torrent of abuse of the Blackfoot race in general, and
of Rushing River