ell suiting the
self-assured voice, which, in tones quite new and strange, pronounced
these words, with an emphatic pause at the end of each brief sentence:

"You may run to the green earth's end, my boy! To the sea, where the
bright sun soon shall set! To the sea, where the pale moon soon shall
rise! But, step for step, come we at your heels, though borne you be on
the wings of the wind!"

The poor boy cowered down at the foot of the old oak, and burying his
face in his coonskin cap, remained for a long time mum and motionless.
With the red moccasins, which, in a pet of disappointment and wounded
self-love, he had flung from him, had departed the marvelous stoutness
of heart and strength of limb he had felt while his feet were in them.
And now, all weak and spiritless, was he left to shift for himself, with
such resources only as a bare-footed boy, alone in the midst of a vast
wilderness, might be supposed to have at his command. Sitting thus, he
began gradually taking in some idea of the sad condition to which he had
brought himself by his vanity and disobedience, though his remorse for
the wrong of the thing, and for the sorrow it must occasion the dear
ones at home, was by no means as lively and decided as his regret for
the unpleasant consequences thereof to his own particular self. There he
was--he knew not how far away from home, sweet home!--all alone in that
wild and solitary spot, and the darksome, dismal, terrible night soon to
come creeping, creeping over his houseless head. There he was, and no
dear mam--so loving, so cheerful--to give him his bowl of bread and
milk! No dear pap--so kind, so merry--to tell him wild stories of
Indians and Will-o'-the-Wisp and Nick of the Woods! Yes, and no good,
old Pow-wow, brave old Pow-wow, to come trotting up to him, in the dear
old wag-tail way, to thrust his shaggy head into his little master's
hand for a pat or a hug! It was too much for the poor, young runaway's
heart, and out came a passionate burst of tender home-sick feeling,
though he did it as well as he could, smothering it up in his coonskin
cap. But soon again, bethinking him how he had been mocked and fooled by
the imp in the moccasins, he summoned back the pride of his young heart
and the strength of his young will, and checked his tears, lest his
weakness of feeling, like his vanity, should be made the provocation of
derision. In this condition he sat for many moments, quite motionless,
saving when the so