Vulture: for, if he can find out what never an Injun Medicine has been
able to do, it may be, the old chief will feed him up and make him his
conjuror. They say, he's conjuring with the crittur now."

"And Stackpole, what will they do with him?"

"Burn him, sartin! They're jist waiting till the warriors come in from
the Licking, where, you must know, they have taken a hundred scalps, or
so, at one grab: and then the feller will roast beyond all mention."

"And I, too," said the Virginian, with such calmness us he could, "I,
too, am to meet the same fate?"

"Most ondoubtedly," said Doe, with an ominous nod of assent. "There's
them among us that speak well of you, as having heart enough to be made
an Injun: but there's them that have sworn you shall burn; and burn you
_must!_--That is, onless--" But he was interrupted by Roland, exclaiming
hurriedly,--

"There is but one more to speak of--my cousin? my poor friendless
cousin?"

"There," said Doe, "you needn't be afeard of burning, by no means
whatsomever. We didn't catch the gal to make a roast of. She is safe
enough; there's one that will take care of her."

"And that one is the villain Braxley! Oh, knave that you are, could you
have the heart,--you who have a daughter of your own, could you have
committed _her_ into the arms of such a villain?"

"No, by G----, I couldn't!" said Doe, with great earnestness: "but
another man's daughter is quite another thing. Howsomever, you needn't
take on for nothing; for he means to marry her and take her safe back to
Virginny: and, you see, I bargained with him agin all rascality; for I
had a gal of my own, and I couldn't think of his playing foul with the
poor creatur'. No, we had an understanding about all that, when we was
waiting for you on old Salt. All Dick wants is jist a wife that will help
him to them lands of the old major. And that, you see, is jist the whole
reason of our making the grab on you."

"You confess it, then!" cried Roland, too much excited by the bitterest
of passions to be surprised at the singular communicativeness of his
visitor: "you sold yourself to the villain for gold! for gold you
hesitated not to sacrifice the happiness of one victim of his passions,
the life of another! Oh, basest of all that bear the name of man, how
could you do this villany?"

"Because," replied Doe, with as much apparent sincerity as emphasis,
"because I am a d--d rascal: there's no sort of doubt about it; and we
won'