mothered passions shining from the eyes below, might have left
that merit questionable with the beholder.

The other was a smaller man, whom Roland, had he been present, would have
recognised as the supposed half-breed, who, at the partition of spoils,
after the capture of his party, and the defeat of the young Kentuckians,
had given him a prisoner into the hands of the three Piankeshaws,--in a
word, the renegade father of Telie Doe. Nor was his companion less
familiar to Nathan, who beheld in his sombre countenance the features of
that identical stranger, seen with Doe at the fire among the assailants
at the memorable ruin, whose appearance had awakened the first suspicion
that there was more in the attack than proceeded from ordinary causes.
This was a discovery well fitted to increase the interest, and sharpen
the curiosity, of the man of peace: who peering in upon the pair from the
chink, gave all his faculties to the duty of listening and observing. The
visage of Doe, dark and sullen at the best, was now peculiarly moody; and
he sat gazing into the fire, apparently regardless of his companion, who,
as he drew the shawl from his head, and threw it aside, muttered
something into Doe's ears, but in a voice too low for Nathan to
distinguish what he said. The whisper was repeated once and again, but
without seeming to produce any impression upon Doe's ears; at which the
other growing impatient, gave, to Nathan's great satisfaction, a louder
voice to his discourse:

"Hark, you, Jack,--Atkinson,--Doe,--Shanogenaw,--Rattlesnake,--or
whatever you may be pleased to call yourself," he cried, striking the
muser on the shoulder, "are you mad, drunk, or asleep? Get up, man, and
tell me, since you will tell me nothing else, what the devil you are
dreaming about?"

"Why, curse it," said the other, starting up somewhat in anger, but
draining, before he spoke, a deep draught from an earthen pitcher that
stood on the table,--"I was thinking, if you must know, about the
youngster, and the dog's death we have driven him to--Christian work for
Christian men, eh?"

"The fate of war!" exclaimed the renegade's companion, with great
composure; "we have won the battle, boy;--the defeated must bear the
consequences."

"Ondoubtedly," said Doe,--"up to the rack, fodder or no fodder: that's
the word; there's no 'scaping them consequences; they must be taken as
they come,--gantelope, fire-roasting, and all. But, I say, Dick--saving
your par