od; clasping
her hands imploringly, she knelt at the feet of the Indian woman, her
conductress--kissed her dark hands and bathed them with her fast flowing
tears, while she pointed passionately to the shore where lay the happy
home from which she had been so suddenly torn.

The squaw, though she evidently comprehended the meaning of her
imploring gestures, shook her head, and in plaintive earnest tone
replied in her own language, that she must go with the canoes to the
other shore,--and she pointed to the north as she spoke. She then
motioned to the young girl--the same that had been Catharine's companion
in the canoe--to bring a hunting knife, which was thrust into one of
the folds of the birch-bark of the wigwam. Catharine beheld the deadly
weapon in the hands of the Indian woman with a pang of agony as great as
if its sharp edge was already at her throat. So young--so young, to die
by a cruel bloody death! what had been her crime?--how should she find
words to soften the heart of her murderess? The power of utterance
seemed denied--she cast herself on her knees and held up her hands in
silent prayer; not to the dreaded Indian woman, but to Him who heareth
the prayer of the poor destitute--who alone can order the unruly wills
and affections of men.

The squaw stretched forth one dark hand and grasped the arm of the
terror-struck girl, while the other held the weapon of destruction; with
a quick movement she severed the thongs that bound the fettered wrists
of the pleading captive, and with a smile that seemed to light up her
whole face she raised her from her prostrate position, laid her hand
upon her young head, and with an expression of good-humoured surprise
lifted the flowing tresses of her sunny hair and spread them over
the back of her own swarthy hand; then, as if amused by the striking
contrast, she shook down her own jetty-black hair and twined a tress of
it with one of the fair haired girl's--then laughed till her teeth shone
like pearls within her red lips. Many were the exclamations of childish
wonder that broke from the other females, as they compared the snowy arm
of the stranger with their own dusky skins; it was plain that they had
no intention of harming her, and by degrees distrust and dread of her
singular companions began in some measure to subside.

The squaw motioned her to take a seat on a mat beside her, and gave her
a handful of parched rice and some deer's flesh to eat; but Catharine's
hea