uamehud."

A pang of inexpressible agony cut, like a knife, through the heart
of Holden. He could brave death himself, but, good God! that his son
should be murdered by the savage! The thought was too horrible. For a
moment, the courageous heart almost stopped, and, with quivering lips,
he commended the young man to the protection of Providence. But the
momentary weakness soon passed away, as the dogma of divine decrees
or fate occurred to his mind. The blood flowed freer in his veins; his
form straightened, and with a dignified gesture, he answered--

"Heathen! I have no death-song to sing. The Christian goeth not to his
Maker, boasting of his fancied merits, but, like a child, hiding its
face in its mother's bosom, and asking to be forgiven. And know that
of thyself thou art powerless. Thou canst do only what is permitted."

"It is well!" exclaimed Ohquamehud, a glow of admiration, at the
courage with which Holden met his fate, flashing--in spite of
himself--across his countenance, and which he vainly tried to
conceal. "The dog of a pale-face is tired of his life, and will thank
Ohquamehud for sending him to the spirits of his fathers."

So saying, he raised the rifle to his shoulder and fired. The eyes of
the Solitary had been intently fastened upon every motion of his foe,
and, the instant before the gun was discharged, he threw his arms
violently into the air. Whether the gesture disconcerted the aim of
the Indian, or intemperance had weakened his nerves, the rifle
was aimed too high and failed of its mark. But Holden's escape was
extremely narrow. The bullet grazed his scalp, perforating the cap,
and throwing it from his head. In the colloquy, he had, probably,
determined upon his line of conduct; for, immediately, upon the flash,
he started, with an activity which his appearance hardly promised,
towards his antagonist, and before the latter could club his rifle or
draw a knife, had seized him around the waist, and strove to throw him
on the ground. The Indian dropped the useless gun, and returned the
death-grapple.

"Child of the devil!" cried Holden, whose passions were now thoroughly
roused, and who fancied himself back again to the time when he fought
the red man of the West, "I will send thee, this day, to the place
appointed for thee."

Ohquamehud answered not a word, but, straining the other in an embrace
as close as his own, summoned all his powers to the deadly struggle.

The two were more equally