gment. But the young
man, while he felt a little amazement at the dramatic aspect of things,
knew his enemies too well to fancy himself at liberty, or a free
agent. Still, he was ignorant how far the Hurons meant to carry
their artifices, and he determined to bring the question, as soon as
practicable, to the proof. Affecting an indifference he was far from
feeling, he strolled about the area, gradually getting nearer and nearer
to the spot where he had landed, when he suddenly quickened his pace,
though carefully avoiding all appearance of flight, and pushing aside
the bushes, he stepped upon the beach. The canoe was gone, nor could he
see any traces of it, after walking to the northern and southern verges
of the point, and examining the shores in both directions. It
was evidently removed beyond his reach and knowledge, and under
circumstances to show that such had been the intention of the savages.

Deerslayer now better understood his actual situation. He was a prisoner
on the narrow tongue of land, vigilantly watched beyond a question, and
with no other means of escape than that of swimming. He, again, thought
of this last expedient, but the certainty that the canoe would be sent
in chase, and the desperate nature of the chances of success deterred
him from the undertaking. While on the strand, he came to a spot where
the bushes had been cut, and thrust into a small pile. Removing a few of
the upper branches, he found beneath them the dead body of the Panther.
He knew that it was kept until the savages might find a place to inter
it, where it would be beyond the reach of the scalping knife. He gazed
wistfully towards the castle, but there all seemed to be silent and
desolate, and a feeling of loneliness and desertion came over him to
increase the gloom of the moment.

"God's will be done!" murmured the young man, as he walked sorrowfully
away from the beach, entering again beneath the arches of the wood.
"God's will be done, on 'arth as it is in heaven! I did hope that my
days would not be numbered so soon, but it matters little a'ter all. A
few more winters, and a few more summers, and 'twould have been over,
accordin' to natur'. Ah's! me, the young and actyve seldom think death
possible, till he grins in their faces, and tells 'em the hour is come!"

While this soliloquy was being pronounced, the hunter advanced into the
area, where to his surprise he saw Hetty alone, evidently awaiting his
return. The girl carr