RRO--THE FORMER SUFFERS THE PANGS
OF REMORSE.

A camp of savages is, in some respects, exceedingly unattractive.
Indeed, it may truly be said to be in many respects repulsive. There
are usually odours in such a camp which are repellent to the nose,
dishes that are disgusting to the taste, sights that are disagreeable to
the eyes, sounds that are abhorrent to the ear, and habits that are
uncongenial to the feelings.

Nevertheless there is much in such a camp that is deeply interesting.
The student of nature, the mental and moral philosopher, the
anthropologist, and the philanthropist--ay, even the cynic--might each
find much food here suited to his particular tastes and powers of mental
digestion. At present, however, we have chiefly to do, good reader,
with that which interests you and me--namely, Olaf and Snorro, who were
prisoners of war in a savage camp.

The camp referred to was not the small affair already described as
having taken sudden flight from the rivulet which flowed into the great
river, where we have left the Norsemen doing battle with the waters. It
was the great parent, of which that little camp was but an offshoot--the
head-quarters of a whole tribe of savages, who dwelt in it to the extent
of many hundreds. Yet it was not a fixed camp. It was a moving village
of leathern tents, or wigwams, pitched without any regard to order, on
the margin of what appeared to be a small lake, but which was in reality
a mere widening of the great river.

Hither Olaf and Snorro were brought by their captors, and immediately
conveyed to the tent of the chief, who was an aged and white-haired
though vigorous and strong-boned savage. Whitepow, for such, curiously
enough, was his name, opened his eyes uncommonly wide when he saw the
children of the Norsemen, and, sitting up on the couch of furs on which
he had been reclining, gazed at them for about five minutes without
speaking, almost without winking.

Snorro did not appear to relish this, for he crept close to Olaf's side
and tried to turn away his eyes, but found this to be impossible, for a
sort of fascination kept them riveted on the countenance of the aged
Whitepow.

At last the savage chief opened his mouth as well as his eyes, and spoke
to the savage who had brought the children into the royal presence.
That worthy rapidly related the circumstances of the capture--at least
so it is to be presumed, but no one can now tell for certain--after
which White