the chief, the pretty good-humoured Snowbird. The old
man was not insensible to the noble sacrifice which had been made by
the devoted Indiana, and he signified his forgiveness of her fault
by graciously offering to adopt her as his child, and to give her in
marriage to one of his grandsons, an elder brother of the Snowbird; but
the young girl modestly but firmly refused this mark of favour, for her
heart yearned for those whose kindness had saved her from death, and who
had taught her to look beyond the things of this world to a brighter and
a better state of being. She said, "She would go with her white sister,
and pray to God to bless her enemies, as the Great Spirit had taught her
to do."

It seems a lingering principle of good in human nature, that the
exercise of mercy and virtue opens the heart to the enjoyment of social
happiness. The Indians, no longer worked up by excitement to deeds of
violence, seemed disposed to bury the hatchet of hatred, and the lodge
was now filled with mirth, and the voice of gladness, feasting, and
dancing. A covenant of peace and good-will was entered upon by old Jacob
and the chief, who bade Catharine tell her brothers that from henceforth
they should be free to hunt the deer, fish, or shoot the wild fowl of
the lake, whenever they desired to do so, "he the Bald Eagle had said
so."

On the morrow, with the first dawn of day, the old trapper was astir;
the canoe was ready, with fresh cedar boughs strewed at the bottom. A
supply of parched rice and dried fish had been presented by the Indian
chief for the voyage, that his white brother and the young girls might
not suffer, from want. At sun-rise the old man led his young charges to
the lodge of the Bald Eagle, who took a kindly farewell of them. "The
Snow-bird" was sorrowful, and her bright laughing eyes were dimmed with
tears at parting with Catharine; she was a gentle loving thing, as soft
and playful as the tame fawn that nestled its velvet head against her
arm. She did not let Catharine depart without many tokens of her regard,
the work of her own hands,--bracelets of porcupine quills cut in fine
pieces and strung in fanciful patterns, _[FN: Appendix M]_ mocassins
richly wrought, and tiny bark dishes and boxes, such as might have
graced a lady's work-table, so rare was their workmanship.

Just as they were about to step into the canoe "the Snow-bird"
reappeared, bearing a richly worked bark box, "From the Great Medicine,"
she s