osition, the savages allowed her considerable liberty. From the first,
however, she was made a slave and a drudge, and compelled to toil with
the hardy squaws of their tribe, bearing their insults and sometimes
even their blows. The hope and prospect of a speedy relief and
deliverance enabled her to bear this without murmuring. She had not much
fear of death, as she judged by their actions that their intention was
to make her a prisoner for life.

There is nothing in the animal creation but which is affected by
kindness and obedience, and there is no race upon which it makes a more
ready impression than the American. Rosalind's continual gentleness and
pleasing manner melted the hearts of many of the warriors, and more than
one rude epithet was restrained by the meek loveliness of her face.

Yet she was sometimes in greater danger than she ever dreamed. All did
not act and feel thus toward her; more than one voice demanded her
blood, and while she lay quietly dreaming of some loved one, there was
many an angry discussion over her life. Deadly, baleful glances were
given her, when in her musings she was unconscious of the notice of any
one; and among the entire female portion there was not a squaw but what
regarded her with feelings of jealousy and hatred. Had she remained a
month, at the end of that time her life would no doubt have been
sacrificed. To quiet the continual broiling and angry feelings, the
Indians would have acted as they did in nearly a similar case some years
before; she would have been tomahawked, as was the young Miss McCrea.

Rosalind often wondered who the person could be that had interrupted her
conversation with Zeb upon the first night of her captivity. One day she
was gratified with the knowledge. A savage approached her and commenced
a conversation:

"How is the pale-faced maiden?"

She started at hearing her tongue spoken so well, and looking up
recognized a middle-aged Indian, that had frequently visited her house
during her father's life. She replied:

"Very well."

The savage was uneasy, and waited a few moments for her to speak
further, but as she evinced no disposition to do so, he at length added:

"Does the maiden remember Pequanon?"

[Illustration: "Does the maiden remember Pequanon?"]

"She does," she returned, looking him steadily in the face. "She
remembers him as one who received kindness both from her father's hand
and her own, and as one who shows his gratitude by trea