itherto always commanded his respect. There he now stood--a victim
to satanic influence! His tall figure was dilated to its utmost height
by excitement and violent muscular effort, as he stood by the side of
the sick man. His eyes were fixed with a fearful and unmeaning glare on
the darkest corner of the hut, and seemed to be starting from their
sockets; while his hands, stiff and motionless, were extended over the
body of Terah, as if to guard him from the assault of some demons
visible to the conjuror alone. In this statue-like posture he remained
for some moments, while his breast heaved convulsively, and foam
gathered on his parted lips. Then, suddenly, he uttered a yell--so loud
and so unearthly that Henrich started with surprise and terror: and
Oriana caught his hand, and tried to draw him away from a scene that
now filled her soul with shame and sorrow.

But Henrich did not move: he did not heed the beseeching voice, and the
gentle violence of his companion, whose wishes were generally commands
to her white brother.

That yell had recalled the patient to partial consciousness, and he
rolled his blood-shot eyes around him, as if endeavoring to collect his
wandering senses; and then his haggard countenance again resumed the
expression of imperturbable composure and firm endurance that an Indian
warrior thinks it a disgrace to lose, even in the extremity of
suffering. Then Tisquantum sank on one knee beside him, and burst forth
into a passionate address to his deities--the powers of good and evil--
whom he regarded as almost equally mighty to decide the fate of the
patient.

'O, Mahneto!' he exclaimed, in a hoarse and howling voice; 'O,
Richtan-Mahneto,[1] who created the first man and woman out of a stone,
and placed them in these forests to be the parents of thy red children;
is it thy will that Terah shall leave his brethren to mourn his
departed goodness and wisdom, and go on that long and toilsome journey
that leads to the hunting-grounds of our forefathers? Surely when his
spirit _knocks at the door,_ it will be opened to him, and the warriors
of our tribe will welcome him, while his foes will be driven away with
the awful sentence, _Quachet!_[2] Yes, Terah, the wise in counsel, and
the fearless in war, shall surely dwell in the fields of happiness, and
again strike the prey with the renewed strength and skill of his youth.
But not yet, Mahneto! O, not yet!...I see Hobbamock lurking there in the
gloom! I s