pointed upward at the summit of the rock. Before time was given for
a word of remonstrance, it had sent forth its contents, in its usual
streak of bright flame. Ellen started like the frightened chamois, and
uttering a piercing scream, she darted into the tent, with a swiftness
that left it uncertain whether terror or actual injury had been the
penalty of her offence.

The action of the squatter was too sudden and unexpected to admit of
prevention, but the instant it was done, his sons manifested, in an
unequivocal manner, the temper with which they witnessed the desperate
measure. Angry and fierce glances were interchanged, and a murmur of
disapprobation was uttered by the whole, in common.

"What has Ellen done, father," said Asa, with a degree of spirit, which
was the more striking from being unusual, "that she should be shot at
like a straggling deer, or a hungry wolf?"

"Mischief," deliberately returned the squatter; but with a cool
expression of defiance in his eye that showed how little he was moved by
the ill-concealed humour of his children. "Mischief, boy; mischief! take
you heed that the disorder don't spread."

"It would need a different treatment in a man, than in yon screaming
girl!"

"Asa, you ar' a man, as you have often boasted; but remember I am your
father, and your better."

"I know it well; and what sort of a father?"

"Harkee, boy: I more than half believe that your drowsy head let in the
Siouxes. Be modest in speech, my watchful son, or you may have to answer
yet for the mischief your own bad conduct has brought upon us."

"I'll stay no longer to be hectored like a child in petticoats. You talk
of law, as if you knew of none, and yet you keep me down, as though I
had not life and wants of my own. I'll stay no longer to be treated like
one of your meanest cattle!"

"The world is wide, my gallant boy, and there's many a noble plantation
on it, without a tenant. Go; you have title deeds signed and sealed to
your hand. Few fathers portion their children better than Ishmael
Bush; you will say that for me, at least, when you get to be a wealthy
landholder."

"Look! father, look!" exclaimed several voices at once, seizing with
avidity, an opportunity to interrupt a dialogue which threatened to
become more violent.

"Look!" repeated Abiram, in a voice which sounded hollow and warning;
"if you have time for any thing but quarrels, Ishmael, look!"

The squatter turned slowly from his offend