isregarded), forbidding any white man to sell or give rum
to an Indian, and prescribing penalties for its infringement. It was not
the first time that Otasite had heard unfavorably of the influences of
"_nawohti_," which, by the way, with the Cherokees signified physic, as
well as spirituous liquor, a synonymous definition which more civilized
people have sought to apply. He was content that he and the old chief
were once more in affectionate accord, and he did not seek to interpret
the flash of triumph in Colannah's face.

For seven years! for seven years! the white "Man-killer" could not, if
he would, quit the Cherokee country. Well might the old chief's eyes
glisten! The youth was like a son to his lonely age, and Otasite's
prowess the pride of his life. And like others elsewhere he had softened
as age came on, and loved the domestic fireside and the companionship
about the hearth, hearing without participating in the hilarious talk of
the young, and looking out at the world through the eyes of the new
generation, undaunted, expectant, aglow with a spirit that had long ago
smouldered in his own; for the fierce Indian at the last was but an old
man.

Abram Varney, too, experienced a recurrence of ease. He had unwittingly
imbibed much outlandish superstition in his residence among the
Cherokees, and indeed other traders and settlers long believed in the
enchaining fascination of Herbert's Spring, and drank or refrained as
they would stay or go.

Otasite, however, was all unaware of the spell cast upon him when he
came into the chungke-yard the next day, arrayed in his finest garb, the
white dressed doeskin glittering in the sun, his necklaces of beads, his
belt of wolf fangs, his flying feet in their white moccasins--all
catching the light with a differing effect of brilliancy.

Varney watched him;--with the two eagle feathers stiff and erect on his
proud head, his two incongruous long auburn curls, that did duty as a
"war-lock," floating backward in the breeze, he ran so deftly, so
swiftly, with so assured and so graceful a gait that the mere
observation of such symmetrical motion was a pleasure. The trader had
scarcely a pulse of anxiety. Indeed, disingenuously profiting by the tip
afforded by Herbert's Spring, he was heavily backing Wyejah as a winner!

A windy day it was; the clouds raced through the sky, and their shadows
skimming over the valleys and slopes challenged their speed. The
Tennessee River was sin