hat was at me father's fourteenth weddin'."

"Don't want more?"

"NO!" thundered Teddy. "I hope I may niver see nor taste another drop
so long as I live. I here asserts me ancient honor agin, an' I defy
the jug, ye spalpeen of a barbarian what knows no better." Teddy's
reassertion of dignity was very ludicrous, for a tree had to support
him as he spoke; but he evidently was in earnest.

"Neber gib it--if don't want it."

"They say an Indian never will tell a lie to a friend," said Teddy,
dropping his voice as if speaking to himself. "Do you ever lie, Mr.
What's-your-name?"

"No," replied the savage, thereby uttering an unmitigated falsehood.

"You give me your promise, then, that ye'll niver furnish me anither
drap?"

"Yis."

"Give me yer hand."

The two shook hands, Teddy's face, despite its vacant expression,
lighting up for the time with a look of delight.

"Now I'll fish," said Teddy. "P'raps it is best that ye l'ave these
parts; not that I intertains inmity or bad-will toward you, but thin
ye know----hello! yees are gone already, bees you?"

The Indian had departed, and Teddy turned his attention toward
securing the bait. In a few moments he had cast the line out in the
stream and was sound asleep, in which condition he remained until
night set in.

CHAPTER IV.

AN OMINOUS RENCOUNTER.

"I will work him
To an exploit now rich in my device,
Under the which he shall not choose but fall."

The sun passed the meridian, on that summer day in 1821 and Harvey
Richter, the young missionary, came to the door of his cabin,
intending to set forth upon his walk to the Indian village. It was
rather early; the day was pleasant and as his wife followed him, he
lingered awhile upon the steps, loth to leave a scene of such holy
joy.

The year which the two had spent in that wilderness had been one of
almost unalloyed happiness. The savages, among whom they had come to
labor, had received them more kindly than they deemed it right to
anticipate, and had certified their esteem for them in numberless
ways. The missionary felt that a blessing was upon his labor.

An infant had been given them, and the little fellow brought nothing
but gladness and sunlight into the household. Ah! none but a father
can tell how precious the blue-eyed image of his mother was to Harvey
Richter; none but a mother can realize the yearning affection with
which she bent over the sleeping cherub; and but few c