pon him a conviction of the critical situation in which he had suffered
his invaluable trust to be involved through his own confidence. The sun
had already disappeared, and the woods, suddenly deprived of his light*,
were assuming a dusky hue, which keenly reminded him that the hour the
savage usually chose for his most barbarous and remorseless acts
of vengeance or hostility, was speedily drawing near. Stimulated by
apprehension, he left the scout, who immediately entered into a loud
conversation with the stranger that had so unceremoniously enlisted
himself in the party of travelers that morning. In passing his gentler
companions Heyward uttered a few words of encouragement, and was
pleased to find that, though fatigued with the exercise of the day, they
appeared to entertain no suspicion that their present embarrassment was
other than the result of accident. Giving them reason to believe he
was merely employed in a consultation concerning the future route,
he spurred his charger, and drew the reins again when the animal had
carried him within a few yards of the place where the sullen runner
still stood, leaning against the tree.

* The scene of this tale was in the 42d degree of latitude,
where the twilight is never of long continuation.

"You may see, Magua," he said, endeavoring to assume an air of freedom
and confidence, "that the night is closing around us, and yet we are no
nearer to William Henry than when we left the encampment of Webb with
the rising sun.

"You have missed the way, nor have I been more fortunate. But, happily,
we have fallen in with a hunter, he whom you hear talking to the singer,
that is acquainted with the deerpaths and by-ways of the woods, and
who promises to lead us to a place where we may rest securely till the
morning."

The Indian riveted his glowing eyes on Heyward as he asked, in his
imperfect English, "Is he alone?"

"Alone!" hesitatingly answered Heyward, to whom deception was too new to
be assumed without embarrassment. "Oh! not alone, surely, Magua, for you
know that we are with him."

"Then Le Renard Subtil will go," returned the runner, coolly raising
his little wallet from the place where it had lain at his feet; "and the
pale faces will see none but their own color."

"Go! Whom call you Le Renard?"

"'Tis the name his Canada fathers have given to Magua," returned the
runner, with an air that manifested his pride at the distinction. "Night
is the same as