a plug o' Jeemes River, thet this hyur manurscrip wur
entended for yurself, an nob'dy else. Thur's writin' upon it--thet's
clur, an mighty kew'rous ink I reck'n thet ur. Oncest ov a time I kud
'a read write, or print eythur, as easy as fallin' off a log; for thur
wur a Yankee fellur on Duck Crik thet kep a putty consid'able school
thur, an the ole 'oman--thet ur Mrs Rawlins--hed this child put thro' a
reg'lar coorse o' Testy mint. I remembers readin' 'bout thet ur cussed
niggur as toated the possible sack--Judeas, ef I reccol'ex right, war
the durned raskul's name--ef I kud 'a laid claws on him, I'd a raised
his har in the shakin' o' a goat's tail. Wagh! thet I wild."

Rube's indignation against the betrayer having reached its climax,
brought his speech to a termination.

I had not waited for its finale. The object which he held between his
fingers had more interest for me, than either the history of his own
early days or the story of the betrayal.

It was a paper--a note actually folded, and addressed "Warfield!" He
had found it upon the grass, close to where the tent had stood, where it
was held in the crotch of a split reed, the other end of which was
sticking in the ground.

No wonder the trapper had remarked upon the ink, there was no mistaking
the character of that livid red: the writing was _in blood_!

Hastily unfolding the paper, I read:

"_Henri! I am still safe, but in dread of a sad fate_--_the fate of the
poor white captive among these hideous men. Last night I feared it, but
the Virgin shielded me. It has not come. Oh! I shall not submit_--_I
shall die by my own hand. A strange chance has hitherto saved me from
this horrid outrage. No! it was not chance, but Heaven that interposed.
It is thus: Two of my captors claim me_--_one, the son of the
chief_--_the other, the wretch to whom you granted life and freedom.
Would to God it had been otherwise! Of the two, he of white blood is
the viler savage_--_bad, brutal_--_a very demon. Both took part in the
capture of the steed, therefore both claim me as their property? The
claim is not yet adjusted; hence have I been spared. But, alas! I fear
my hour is nigh. A council is to be held that will decide to which of
these monsters I am to be given. If to either, it is a horrid fate;
if to neither, a doom still more horrible. Perchance, you know their
custom: I should be common property_--_the victim of all. Dios de mi
alma! Never_--_never!