, and
struggled in my arms to be taken back."

Here Rolfe's narrative was again interrupted by the sobs of McKnight,
who--although a firm, lion-hearted man--could not restrain himself on
listening to these painfully affecting details. The children of Rolfe,
too, repeatedly wept aloud. The "dark sister" herself seemed least
affected of all. Perhaps that terrible scene, occurring at such an
early period of her life, had impressed her character with the firmness
and composure which afterwards marked it. Every now and then she bent
towards the "fair one," throwing her arms around the neck of the latter,
and endeavouring to restrain her tears.

"I gave the child to my wife," continued Rolfe, after a pause, "and in
the company of little Mary, then about her own age, she soon ceased
crying, and fell asleep in my wife's bosom. I took a spade which I had
in my wagon, and going back dug a grave; and, with the help of Cudjo,
hastily interred the body. I say _hastily_, for we did not know the
moment we might stand in need of some one to do as much for ourselves.
It seems that our labour was in vain; yet even had we known this was to
be the case, we should not the less have acted as we did. There was
some satisfaction in performing this last sacred and Christian ceremony
for our murdered friend; and both Cudjo and I felt it to be nothing more
than our duty.

"We did not remain any longer near the spot, but hastening back to our
wagon, I led the oxen in among some trees, where they might be hidden
from view. Commending my wife and little ones to God, I shouldered my
rifle, and set out--for the purpose of discovering whether the savages
had left the place, and in what direction they had gone. It was my
intention, should I be able to satisfy myself about the road they had
taken, to go by some other course, yet by one that would bring me back
into the trail, so that I could go on to the country of New Mexico. I
knew very well that at that late season, and with oxen worn-out, as ours
were, I could never get back to Saint Louis--which was nearly eight
hundred miles distant.

"After proceeding a mile or two--creeping through bushes, and skulking
behind rocks--I saw the trail of the Indians striking out into an open
plain, in a due westerly direction. They must have formed a large band,
and all mounted, as the tracks of their horses testified. Seeing that
they had moved off westward, I formed the resolution of making two or