ye marked her fear, and informed her, in broken English, that
the Penobscot tribe had joined with them, and they were going towards
the rising sun, to hunt moose and deer, and make mats and baskets, to
carry to Boston.

"But," added she, "Sousup drink fire-water and git much drunk; me feel
bad, but Dove Eye no help it."

She told her they were going to have a pow-wow, and wished to go into
a little cleared spot, in the edge of the forest, near her dwelling.
Mrs. Fuller dared not refuse, and so she tremblingly consented.

She told her tribe the result of their confab, and they came forward,
to a man, and laid down their rifles, tomahawks and scalping knives at
her feet, saying,

"Me no hurt white squaw."

They collected a large pile of brush, kindled their fire, lit their
pipes, and prepared their evening meal, after which they commenced
their savage revelry.

They daubed their faces with red paint, while their greasy black hair
hung in dishevelled masses down their backs, and waved to and fro as
they jumped or ran, and performed the various evolutions of their mazy
dance.

Mrs. Fuller lit no candle during that fearful night. She watched their
dusky forms, as they flitted by, dimly seen through the trees, by the
glaring blaze of the fire, that crackled up, throwing a flickering
light upon the majestic forest trees that waved in solemn grandeur
above their heads, and sighed mournfully as the night winds floated
among their branches. The Indians formed a circle round the fire, by
joining hands, and their frantic gestures were teriffic to behold, and
their wild shrieks rent the air. Twice, and twice only, the fearful
war-whoop resounded, filling the heart of that lonely watcher with
indescribable fear.

It was past midnight; the moon had passed her zenith in the sky,
and the swarthy band seemed frantic with their wild orgies and
intoxication.

Many had fallen, beastly drunk, while others swayed like the forest
trees, rocked by the wintry whirlwind.

Dove Eye sat on a mossy rock looking upon the scene with a melancholy
expression of countenance. Near her lay stretched upon the bare
ground, Eagle Eye, the wife of the swarthy chief, who had joined their
tribe in their hunting excursions.

Suddenly a furious din arose, and it was evident that anger was added
to the other debasing passions that were holding control over their
benighted souls. Furious was the strife of words, and fearful menaces
and threats fell f