e declined it. He then proffered to lift her from the
snow-canoe, and place her nearer the fire. This too she declined,
stating that she was warm enough. She was likewise influenced in this
determination by the gestures of the Indian whom she had befriended
the preceding night, who sat by in apparent unconcern, but at every
opportunity, by looks and signs, endeavoured to cheer and encourage
the captive maiden.

After a hearty repast the savages, with the exception of the chief,
rolled themselves in their warm, hairy robes before the glowing fire,
and were soon steeped in profound slumber. The chief long reclined in
a half-recumbent attitude on the couch that had been prepared for him,
and fixing his eyes on the glaring flame, and sometimes on the pale
sad features of Mary, seemed to be under the influence of deep and
painful meditations. At times his features assumed a ferocity that
caused Mary to start and tremble; but at others they wore a mournful
expression, and ever and anon a tear rose up and glistened in his eye.
Thus he sat for more than an hour after all the rest were sunk in
motionless slumber. Finally his bedecked head, adorned with a
profusion of rich and rare feathers, sunk by degrees on the rude
pillow, and he too was soon wandering in the land of dreams.

But sleep brooded not upon the watchful lids of Mary. She gazed in
silence at the wild savage scene before her. The uncouth beings who
had so recently hooted and yelled like sanguinary demons, with intent
to slay and pillage, around her father, her friends and herself, now
lay motionless, though free and still hostile, within a few feet of
her, and she was their captive! She thought of her humble but peaceful
home, and sighed bitterly. And she thought, too, of her distressed
friends, and she was the more distressed from the consciousness that
they sympathized with her sufferings. Poor girl! She looked at the
dark brows and compressed lips of her captors as the fitful flashes of
the flames threw a bright ray upon them, and, in despite of the many
hopes she had entertained, she was horror-stricken to contemplate the
reality of her sad predicament.

At a late and solemn hour, the Indian who had been the captive the
night before, suddenly ceased his snoring, which had been heard
without intermission for a great length of time; and when Mary
instinctively cast her eyes towards him, she was surprised to see him
gently and slowly raise his head. He enjoined