ground,
he placed a log under them--then addressing him, as he again bared his
knife which he stuck in the tree above his head, he sung--

"I take from thee the earth of Yemassee--
I take from thee the water of Yemassee--
I take from thee the arrow of Yemassee--
Thou art no longer a Yemassee--
The Yemassee knows thee no more."

"The Yemassee knows thee no more," cried the multitude, and their
universal shout was deafening upon the ear. Occonestoga said no word
now--he could offer no resistance to the unnerving hands of Malatchie,
who now bared the arm more completely of its covering. But his limbs
were convulsed with the spasms of that dreadful terror of the future
which was racking and raging in every pulse of his heart. He had full
faith in the superstitions of his people. His terrors acknowledged
the full horrors of their doom. A despairing agony which no language
could describe had possession of his soul.

Meanwhile, the silence of all indicated the general anxiety; and
Malatchie prepared to seize the knife and perform the operation, when
a confused murmur arose from the crowd around; the mass gave way and
parted, and, rushing wildly into the area, came Matiwan, his mother,
the long black hair streaming, the features, an astonishing likeness
to his own, convulsed like his; and her action that of one reckless of
all things in the way of the forward progress she was making to the
person of her child. She cried aloud as she came, with a voice that
rang like a sudden death-bell through the ring.

"Would you keep a mother from her boy, and he to be lost to her for
ever? Shall she have no parting with the young brave she bore in her
bosom? Away, keep me not back--I will look upon him, I will love him.
He shall have the blessing of Matiwan, though the Yemassee and the
Manneyto curse."

The victim heard, and a momentary renovation of mental life, perhaps a
renovation of hope, spoke out in the simple exclamation which fell
from his lips:

"Oh, Matiwan--oh, mother!"

She rushed towards the spot where she heard his appeal, and thrusting
the executioner aside, threw her arms desperately about his neck.

"Touch him not, Matiwan," was the general cry from the crowd; "touch
him not, Matiwan,--Manneyto knows him no more."

"But Matiwan knows him--the mother knows her child, though Manneyto
denies him. Oh, boy--oh, boy, boy, boy." And she sobbed like an infant
on his neck.

"Thou art come, Matiwan-