way. She
was too much excited to remember then the few words of English she had
picked up when living with the white woman. Expressing her meaning by
gestures, with a clearness peculiar to the Indians, she dragged rather
than led Susan from the hut. They had just reached the edge of the
forest when the wild yells of the Indians sounded in their ears. Having
gone with Susan a little way into the forest, her guide left her. For
nearly four hours she lay there, half dead with cold and terror, not
daring to move from her place of concealment. She saw the flames of the
dwelling, where so many lonely hours had been passed, rising above the
trees, and heard the shrill "whoops" of the retiring Indians. Nero, who
was lying by her side, suddenly rose and gave a low growl. Silently a
dark figure came gliding among the trees directly to the spot where she
lay. She gave herself up for lost; but it was the Indian woman, who came
to her, and dropped at her feet a bag of money, the remains of her late
husband's savings. The grateful creature knew where it was kept; and
while the Indians were busied examining the rifles and other objects
more interesting to them, had carried it off unobserved. Waving her arm
around to show that all was now quiet, she pointed in the direction of
Wilton's house, and was again lost among the trees.

Day was just breaking when Susan reached the squatter's cabin. Having
heard the sad story, Wilton and two of his sons started immediately for
the spot. Nothing was to be seen save a heap of ashes. The party had
apparently consisted of only three or four Indians; but a powerful tribe
being in the neighborhood, they saw it would be too hazardous to follow
them. From this time, Susan lived with the Wiltons. She was as a
daughter to the old man, and a sister to his sons, who often said,
"That, as far as they were concerned, the Indians had never done a
kindlier action than in burning down Susan Cooper's hut."

DEAF SMITH,

THE CELEBRATED TEXAN SPY.

About two years after the Texan revolution, a difficulty occurred
between the new government and a portion of the people, which threatened
the most serious consequences--even the bloodshed and horrors of civil
war. Briefly, the cause was this: The constitution had fixed the city of
Austin as the permanent capital, where the public archives were to be
kept, with the reservation, however, of a power in the president to
order their temporary removal, in case of dan