that his companion lingered,
pursued the direction of his gaze, and in some measure recalled the
recollection of Heyward, by speaking.

"There is much fruitful soil uncultivated here," he said; "and I may
add, without the sinful leaven of self-commendation, that since my short
sojourn in these heathenish abodes, much good seed has been scattered by
the wayside."

"The tribes are fonder of the chase than of the arts of men of labor,"
returned the unconscious Duncan, still gazing at the objects of his
wonder.

"It is rather joy than labor to the spirit, to lift up the voice in
praise; but sadly do these boys abuse their gifts. Rarely have I found
any of their age, on whom nature has so freely bestowed the elements of
psalmody; and surely, surely, there are none who neglect them more.
Three nights have I now tarried here, and three several times have I
assembled the urchins to join in sacred song; and as often have they
responded to my efforts with whoopings and howlings that have chilled my
soul!"

"Of whom speak you?"

"Of those children of the devil, who waste the precious moments in
yonder idle antics. Ah! the wholesome restraint of discipline is but
little known among this self-abandoned people. In a country of birches,
a rod is never seen; and it ought not to appear a marvel in my eyes,
that the choicest blessings of Providence are wasted in such cries as
these."

David closed his ears against the juvenile pack, whose yell just then
rang shrilly through the forest; and Duncan, suffering his lip to curl,
as in mockery of his own superstition, said firmly:

"We will proceed."

Without removing the safeguards from his ears, the master of song
complied, and together they pursued their way towards what David was
sometimes wont to call "the tents of the Philistines."

CHAPTER XXIII

"But though the beast of game
The privilege of chase may claim;
Though space and law the stag we lend
Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend;
Who ever recked, where, how, or when
The prowling fox was trapped or slain?"

_Lady of the Lake._

It is unusual to find an encampment of the natives, like those of the
more instructed whites, guarded by the presence of armed men. Well
informed of the approach of every danger, while it is yet at a distance,
the Indian generally rests secure under his knowledge of the signs of
the forest, and the long and difficult paths that separate him from
those he has most reason t