red to pass the night in that position,
as he had passed many similar ones when he had been out on hunting
expeditions with his father-in-law Jyanough.

Long he gazed on the strange aspect of the wide savanna, as it glowed
in the darkness of night, with a lurid and fearful glare, that only
made the gloom more visible. But weariness and exhaustion at length
overcame him, and he fell asleep, and did not awake until the sun was
high in the heavens. The prospect around him was changed, but the plain
looked even more dreary and desolate than it appeared while the fire
was at work on its clothing of grass. Now all was laid low, and smoking
ashes alone covered the nakedness of the savanna. Lincoya gazed
earnestly in every direction, that he might make sure of the route he
must follow in order to rejoin his friends; and his attention was
attracted by the figures of two men approaching towards the tree in
which he sat, and apparently engage d in earnest conversation. For a
moment his hopes led him to believe that they were Jyanough and
Henrich, who had returned, probably, in search of him; and he was about
to hail them with a loud and joyful cry. But the caution so early
instilled into the mind of an Indian restrained him: and well it was
for him that he had not thus given vent to his feelings. The men drew
nearer, and he saw, to his amazement, that they were Coubitant--he
whose death and burial had been so confidently reported, and Salon--the
trusty Salon--to whom the conduct of the tribe had been deputed after
the supposed death of the appointed leader.

They came beneath the tree; and, seating themselves at its foot,
proceeded to refresh themselves with food and water, that looked
tempting to the eyes of the fasting and parched Lincoya, as he gazed
noiselessly and attentively at their proceedings, and listened to their
discourse.

'At last I have been successful, Salon,' said Coubitant to his
companion. 'At last I may rejoice in the destruction of those I hate
with so bitter a hatred. Those burnt and broken weapons were Henrich's,
end this ornament belonged to Oriana.' As he said this he displayed in
his hand a girdle clasp, that Lincoya recognized as having been worn by
the Squaw-Sachem on the previous day. It had fallen to the ground when
she gave the girdle to Henrich: and many of his personal accoutrements
had also been cast there, unheeded, in his anxiety to save Tisquantum.

'I would I could have been more sure