a,
announced each death. These yells were repeated, at intervals, to about
the number of thirty, when, suddenly, the bridge was again deserted as
before.

After the lapse of a minute, the tall figure of a warrior was seen to
advance, holding a female in his arms. No one could mistake, even at
that distance, the gigantic proportions of Wacousta,--as he stood in
the extreme centre of the bridge, in imposing relief against the flood
that glittered like a sea of glass beyond. From his chest there now
burst a single yell; but, although audible, it was fainter than any
remembered ever to have been heard from him by the garrison. He then
advanced to the extreme edge of the bridge; and, raising the form of
the female far above his head with his left hand, seemed to wave her in
vengeful triumph. A second warrior was seen upon the bridge, and
stealing cautiously to the same point. The right hand of the first
warrior was now raised and brandished in air; in the next instant it
descended upon the breast of the female, who fell from his arms into
the ravine beneath. Yells of triumph from the Indians, and shouts of
execration from the soldiers, mingled faintly together. At that moment
the arm of the second warrior was raised, and a blade was seen to
glitter in the sunshine. His arm descended, and Wacousta was observed
to stagger forward and fall heavily into the abyss into which his
victim had the instant before been precipitated. Another loud yell, but
of disappointment and anger, was heard drowning that of exultation
pealed by the triumphant warrior, who, darting to the open extremity of
the bridge, directed his flight along the margin of the river, where a
light canoe was ready to receive him. Into this he sprang, and, seizing
the paddle, sent the waters foaming from its sides; and, pursuing his
way across the river, had nearly gained the shores of Canada before a
bark was to be seen following in pursuit.

How felt--how acted Colonel de Haldimar throughout this brief but
terrible scene? He uttered not a word. With his arms still folded
across his breast, he gazed upon the murder of his child; but he heaved
not a groan, he shed not a tear. A momentary triumph seemed to,
irradiate his pallid features, when he saw the blow struck that
annihilated his enemy; but it was again instantly shaded by an
expression of the most profound despair.

"It is done, gentlemen," he at length remarked. "The tragedy is closed,
the curse of Ellen Ha