faintest possible "'Sh!" from the Mohawk apprised
his companions that danger was close, and all came to an instant halt.
The sounds of the Iroquois moving near them were slight, but they told
the story as plainly as if the sunlight revealed every form.

As might be expected, the Indians did not take long to find the scow
that had been abandoned by the fugitives. And when the craft was
discovered it told its own story. The nest was warm, but the bird had
flown. When the Iroquois realized this fact, they exchanged a few words,
which the Mohawk heard and understood, for they were in his own tongue.

"We have come too late to find the pale faces," said one.

"They have gone," replied another. "They are hiding in the woods, and we
shall not find them till to-morrow."

"They cannot cross the big brook," continued one who seemed to be the
first speaker. "When the sun comes to light up the forest, then we will
take their trail and hunt them to their holes, and before the sun goes
down there shall not be a scalp left but on the head of the Flower of
the Woods."

"And the traitor Lena-Wingo, what shall be done with him?"

"His scalp shall be torn from his head and flung in his face. Then he
shall be taken to the towns of the Iroquois and tied to a tree, and left
till the birds pick out his eyes. The Iroquois women and children shall
dance around him, and laugh till his eyes are gone."

This was interesting information to the individual referred to, but it
affected him little. He had heard too many such threats before.

"Lena-Wingo is cunning as the serpent that crawls in the grass,"
continued the Iroquois, who were dissecting him in his own hearing.

"You do not hear him move when he comes for his prey, or steals away
from the warriors that are hunting him."

"But Brandt, the great chieftain, has sworn to take the scalp of
Lena-Wingo, and he will do it, unless the traitor runs away from so
great a warrior, as Brandt says he has run when he heard that he was
hunting for him."

If ever there was an angry Indian, that one was Lena-Wingo, when he
heard these words. The thought of his running away from any one through
fear was a little more than he could stand with composure; and those who
were crouching around him in breathless stillness were surprised to hear
him shift his position and breathe hard, as though struggling to
suppress his emotions. Could they have seen his face at that moment,
distorted as it was by passion