ape. A few dried bunches of fern were spread for his
couch; and he was supplied with a wooden bowl of water and a handful of
pounded corn to satisfy his appetite; and it was ordered that Monega,
the most skilful mediciner of the tribe, should apply her most healing
salves and balsams to his hurts, that he might the sooner be ready to
run the gauntlet, and endure the torture of fire, which was the destiny
awaiting him.

Monega was the daughter of a chief, and as it chanced, was as
distinguished for the gentleness of her heart, as for her exceeding
loveliness, and her great medical skill. No one could look upon her
slight and well-rounded limbs, and upon her sweet countenance, without a
feeling of admiration, if not of love; and no sooner did our Mohawk gaze
upon her features, and listen to the soft tones of her voice, than he
was completely fascinated with her charms. Nor did the Indian damsel
gaze upon the noble captive with less favorable emotions. With a
blushing cheek and trembling hand she produced from a number of gourds,
the most potent herbs that constituted her remedies, and tenderly
applied them to the wounded limbs of the Mohawk.

"How is the sweet daughter of the Oneida named?" inquired the young
chief, as the damsel proceeded to bathe the bruised places with
sweet-smelling medicines.

A blush suffused the modest cheek of Monega as she replied, "I am called
among my people Monega, or the Wild-rose, and am the daughter of a
chief."

"Monega," exclaimed he, "is fairer than any honeyed wild-rose that is
kissed by the red lip of the morning, or than the pearly lily that
droops by the brink of the running water. There is no maiden among the
fair daughters of the Mohawk, so lovely in the eyes of Wauchee. Will not
the Wild-rose return again the fondness that blooms in the breast of the
strange warrior, though he lies like a wounded panther at the feet of
his mistress?"

"The captive warrior," returned the maiden, "has a bold heart, and is
more stately and noble than any of the young chiefs of her own people,
yet Monega must not yield her heart to a chief of an enemy." And, so
saying, she hastily gathered her herbs and unguents together, and
withdrew beneath the suspended buffalo-hide that formed the door of the
wigwam.

As the shades of evening began to settle on the deep woods that drooped
around, the captive continued to listen intently for the returning step
of the damsel; and presently the heavy drapery