t call _her_ a squaw, Joe--she's more like an angel than a
squaw," said Mary, gazing tenderly at the lovers, while tears were yet
standing in her eyes.

"I won't do so again," said Joe, "because she's the prettiest wild
thing I ever saw; and if Mr. William don't marry her, I will."

"Keep silent, Joe, or else leave us," again interposed Glenn.

"I'll go catch my fish. I had just found a frog, and was in the act of
catching it, when I saw the sq--the--_her_--and I thought then that I
would just run home and let you know she was coming before I took it.
But I remember where it was, and I'll have it now in less than no
time." Saying this, Joe set off up the valley again, though not very
well pleased with himself for betraying so much alarm when there was
so little danger.

"La-u-na, I am no Indian," said William, at length, in the language of
her tribe, and much affected by her searching stare.

"But you were once the young chief that led our warriors to battle,
and caught La-u-na's heart. I heard you were a pale-face after you
were taken away from us; and I thought if you would not fly back to
La-u-na, like the pigeon that escapes from the talons of the eagle and
returns to its mate, then I would lose you--forget you--hate you. I
tried, but I could not do it. When the white moon ran up to the top of
the sky, and shone down through the tall trees in my face, I would
ever meet you in the land of dreams, with the bright smile you used to
have when you were wont to put your arm around me and draw me so
gently to your breast. I was happy in those dreams. But they would not
stay. The night-hawk flew low and touched my eyes with his wings as he
flapped by, and I awoke. Then my breast was cold and my cheeks were
wet. The katydids gathered in the sweet rose-bushes about me and sung
mournfully. La-u-na was unhappy. La-u-na must see her Young Eagle, or
go to the land of spirits. She called her wild steed to her side, and,
plucking these flowers to test his fleetness, sprang upon him and flew
hither. He is now grazing in the prairie at the head of the valley;
and here are the blossoms, still alive, fresh and sweet." The
trembling and tearful girl then gently and sadly strewed the flowers
over the grass at her feet.

"Sweet La-u-na!" cried William, snatching up the blossoms and pressing
them to his lips, "forgive the young chief; he will still love you and
never leave you again."

"No--no--no!" said the girl, shaking her head