Glenn would join her father in the
pursuit, and she entertained a lively hope that they would overtake
her. But, again, when she looked out on the surface of the snow, and
beheld the rapidity of the savages' pace, this hope was entertained
but for a moment. She then resolved to make an effort herself to
escape. If she was not successful, it would, at all events, retard the
progress of her captors, and she might also ascertain, with some
degree of certainty, their purposes with regard to her fate. She rose
as softly as possible and sprang upon the snow. The Indians, as she
feared, instantly felt the diminution of weight, and halted so
abruptly that every one of them was prostrated on the slippery
snow-crust. Mary endeavoured to take advantage of this occurrence,
and, springing quickly to her feet, fled rapidly in the opposite
direction. But before she had run many minutes, she heard the savages
in close pursuit and gaining upon her at every step. It was useless to
fly. She turned her head, and beheld the whole party within a few
paces of her. The foremost was a tall athletic savage, bearing in his
hand a tomahawk he had snatched from the snow-canoe, and wearing a
demoniac scowl on his lip. Mary scanned his face and then turned her
eyes to heaven. She felt that her end was near, and she breathed a
prayer taught her by her buried mother. The savage rushed upon her,
entwining his left hand in her flowing hair, and waving his tomahawk
aloft with the other, was in the act of sinking the steel in the fair
forehead before him, when the blow was arrested by a mere stripling,
who came up at the head of the rest of the Indians. The Herculean
savage whirled round and scowled passionately at the youth. The young
Indian (the chief just elected in the place of Raven) regarded him a
moment with gleaming eyes, and a determined expression of feature, and
then with much dignity motioned him away. The huge savage was
strangely submissive in a moment, and obeyed without a murmur. Mary
was conducted back to the snow-canoe by the young chief, who led her
by the hand, while the rest walked behind. Once the young warrior
turned and looked searchingly in the face of his fair prize, and she
returned the gaze with an instantaneous conviction that no personal
harm was intended her. The chief was not half so dark as the rest of
his tribe, and his countenance was open, generous, and noble. (It may
seem improbable to the unthinking reader that a timid