„ But go now : I forgive you. After this it is doubtless better that we shonlrt 
 part." P. 262 
 
m«s7^n wt" ^l '^^ '''" of the Wild Cat," said he, "and the ^hite Eagle 
 Trow the rocks."' ''*'"*'" '^° ""' ^^ "'''^^ ^°°"«^' ^^ '"^^ ^'' ^"""^ "'''' 
 
 '-ft 
 
CAMP FIEES 
 
 THE RED MEN: 
 
 % pajih'fb fears %. 
 
 BY Jf R.^RTON. 
 
 A tale of love and arms, 
 Of wild-wood sights and flowers, and forest men, 
 Where white plumes nod to red, and noble hearts 
 Beat In bronze breasts as freely as in pearl. 
 
 High and low are of one blood — we are all brothers. 
 
 ILLU8TBA.TED BT WALOUTT. 
 
 - NEW YOEK: 
 
 DERBY k JACKSON, 119 NASSAU STREET. 
 
 CINCINNATI : — ^H. W. DERBY & CO. 
 1857. 
 
•:/: V 
 
 
 
 XNTJiBED, A.CCOBDINa TO ACT OF CONGRESS, IN THE TEAR 1855, BT 
 
 J. 0. DERBY 
 
 IH THE CLIRK: S OFFICE OF THE DTSTRICT COURT OF THE UNITED 8TAT¥t 
 FOR THE SOUTHERN DISTRICT OF NEW YORK 
 
 DAV1E8 AND E0BEET8, STEREOTYPBKS, 
 
 201 William Street, N. Y. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The writer of this liistory is aware that the 
 critics are prone to smile at all attempts at confi- 
 dences between an author and the public. Still, 
 in the present instance, he is disposed for a very- 
 brief period to take his stand at the confessional. 
 He is frank to say that his work is not what he 
 would endeavor to make it, were plot and detail 
 now for the first to be determined. A consider- 
 able time has elapsed since it was written — in 
 truth, it has been held in reserve much more than 
 the period prescribed by the discreet Horace : but 
 notwithstanding the space allotted to ripening, 
 and a very thorough revision, the broad features 
 of the original cast were found too deeply set to 
 admit of material change. He would now, were it 
 practicable, modify some of the incidents — render 
 them less vivid in color as well as more sober in 
 character — and he would also, in some cases, am- 
 plify and extend them, even at the risk of win- 
 
 ivi209383 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 nowing some favorite portions quite away ; for it 
 may be charged, with a show of reason, that the * 
 events occasionally crowd very closely on each 
 other's heels. In short, were he to write again, 
 with an equal freedom of choice as to subject and 
 action, he would select a different field, and court ; 
 invention and adventure less, and quiet more ; 
 for the storm of passion and the blast of the 
 trumpet are not so much to his taste now as they 
 were once. 
 
 But, after all, he is by no means certain that 
 the public would be well pleased with the change. 
 The book contains his early fresh thoughts, fan- 
 cies, and feelings, frankly spoken ; and will ap- 
 peal strongly to the buoyant and more honest side 
 of life ; and so, consoling himself with the belief 
 that it is defaced by no unworthy sentiment, and 
 ^ that it presents in the main a fair picture of the 
 times as they existed among us a century ago, 
 when the Georges of England were our kings, 
 and the Confederacy of the Six Nations of Eed 
 Men our allies, he is content to submit it into the 
 hands of the publishers as it is. 
 
 BB.ooKLYJsr, August^ 1866. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OHAPTKB ^ rAOK 
 
 I. A HUNDRED YEARS AGO 9 
 
 II. THE READER IS UNEXPECTEDLY INTRODUCED TO THE 
 
 HERO OF THE STORY 14 
 
 ni. — THE YOUTH S(f OPPORTUNELY DISCOVERED, APPROVES 
 HIMSELF A LAD OF PARTS, WITH SOMETHING OF THE 
 FEELINGS OF A MAN 20 
 
 IV. — OUR HERO IS RAPIDLY LED ON INTO THE REALITIES OB 
 
 LIFE AND MANHOOD 25 
 
 V. THE BARNEGAT HOTEL. A LANDSCAPE BY THE SEA... 81 
 
 VI. — HANDIWORK OF THE OCEAN. A SHIPWRECK THROWS 
 SOME NOBLE FOREIGNERS INTO THE READER'S SO- 
 CIETY. THE LADY VIOLA 36 
 
 VII. — THE WRECKERS. A NIGHT FIRE UPON THE DEEP 47 
 
 VIII. — THE SPANIARDS IN NEW YORK .• 53 
 
 IX. ^WARWICK FINDING HIMSELF IN LOVE, SEEKS RELIEF IN 
 
 POETRY - 67 
 
 X. — THE BALL AT GOVERNOR CLINTON*S 64 
 
 XI. — A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE BATTERY. CHARACTER- 
 ISTIC PASSAGE WITH AN EDITOR 74 
 
 XII. — MICHAEL JOHNSON. LOVE-MAKING IN HIGH LIFE, A 
 
 FRIENDLY WARNING 79 
 
 Xni. — MAJOR VAN quirk's PROSPECTIVE DUEL 88 
 
Vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTKR PAOM 
 
 XIV. — THE SPANISH PARTY SUDDENLY QUIT THE CITY. THE 
 
 SCENERY OF THE HUDSON 100 
 
 / 
 XV. — LOOKING TOWARD THE WILDERNESS. A CLOUD AND A , 
 
 SEPARATION 106 
 
 XVI. — THE SPANISH CAVALCADE. SIGHTS AND SOUNDS OF AN 
 
 AMERICAN WOOD 111 
 
 XVn. — THE SIX NATIONS OF THE RED MEN. DON FERDINAND 
 MAKES AN UNEXPECTED ACQUAINTANCE. THE SPAN- 
 ISH CAMP - 120 
 
 XVIII. A WILD- WOOD HUNT. FASHIONABLE AND ARTISTIC REN- 
 COUNTER BETWEEN TWO MONARCHS OF THE FOREST 127 
 
 XIX. — A CAMP-FIRE YARN, EMBRACING SOME INCIDENTS 
 NECESSARY TO BE KNOWN IN THE EARLY LIFE OF 
 JOHNSON 139 
 
 XX. AN ALARM. CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS BETWEEN 
 
 A FATHER AND DAUGHTER 153 
 
 XXI. — DON MANUEL TORRILLO 163 
 
 XXII. — WARWICK AGAIN. HE TAKES A ROMANTIC RESOLU- 
 TION, AND PERFORMS A TRYING ACT OF BROTHERLY 
 LOVE 171 
 
 XXIII. A REVERSE. THE WATCH-FIRE AND THE WAR-DANCE. 
 
 THE INDIAN WIDOW 178 
 
 XXIV. — THE ATTACK 188 
 
 XXV. THE repulse; and DEATH OF ROLLINGBOW 199 
 
 XXVI. — THE PRISONER^ ^R. OQUETOS AND THE WOUNDED 207 
 
 XXVn. — CONVALESCENCE. SINGULAR DISPLAY OF AFFECTION ON 
 
 THE PART OF A NATIVE 213 
 
 XXVin. — A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. THE SUSQUEHANNA. THE 
 
 3END MOUNTAIN ANJ> THE NEW CAMP 221 
 
' - ^ CONTENTS. Vii 
 
 OBAPTKB PAOa 
 
 XXIX. ANOTHER CAMP-FIRE TALE, WHICH WILL BE FOUND 
 
 IN THE END TO BE INTIMATELY CONNECTED WITH 
 OUR STORY 229 
 
 XXX. — STARLIGHT REVERIES AND SUNLIGHT DREAMS 236 
 
 XXXI. THE RIVALS. A HAND TO HAND RECKONING 241 
 
 XXXII#— A GHOSTLY BRIDEGROOM. TUMULT IN THE CAMP .- 250 
 
 XXXIH. A PARTING. TO THE WOODS AGAIN 257 
 
 XXXIV. — THE FADING LILY. THE ISLAND AND ITS SYLVAN 
 
 HAUNTS 264 
 
 XXXV. ^THE MYSTERY AND BEAUTY OF LOGICAL ARGUMENT- 
 ATION. A SURPRISE , 269 
 
 XXXVI. TRADITIONS OF THE BEND MOUNTAIN. AN EPISODE, 
 
 ON WHICH HINGES THE FINAL DENOUEMENT OF 
 THE PLOT. JOACHIM BLAZO AND HIS DREAMS . . . 277 
 
 XXXVII. JOACHIM, IN DESPAIR, INTRODUCES HIS NECK TO A 
 
 NOOSE. HIS WISH GRATIFIED AND HIS DREAM 
 FINISHED 285 
 
 XXXVni. MIDNIGHT CONJURATIONS 292 
 
 XXXIX. — A GRAND CATASTROPHE 300 
 
 XL. — THE COURT OF INQUIRY. LAST HOURS AND CONFES- 
 SION OF A VILLAIN. TO ARMS ! 307 
 
 XLI. — OUR HERO IN HIS EYRIE ON THE HILLS. A YOUNG 
 
 man's REVERIES AMID THE SOLITUDES OF NATURE. -317 
 
 XLII." -DESPONDENCY. AN ANTIQUE LETTER. INACTION AND 
 
 ITS CONSEQUENCES 322 
 
 XXni.- POLITICAL POSITION OF THE SIX NATIONS. THE TRIAL. 
 
 OLD CHARACTERS IN A NEW DRESS 330 
 
 ZLIV. — THE FATHER AND SON. CLOUDS BREAKING AND THE 
 
 PRIZE IN VIEW 342 
 
^111 CON-TEKTS. 
 
 «)HArTKB PAoa 
 
 X1.V. — AN- ADOPTION. INDIAN FESTIVITIES AN ABORIGINAIi 
 
 SUPPER AND BALL. COXCOMBS AND COQUETTES 
 THE WAR PARTY 348 
 
 XliVI. — INDIAN LOVE OF COUNTRY. THE MOHAWK. THE 
 
 MARCH 358 
 
 XLVII. — THE SCOtTT. PLAN OF THE ATTACK 369 
 
 « 
 XLVIII. — ^A COUP-DE-MAIN. POSTURE OF AFFAIRS AT THE SPAN- 
 ISH CAMP 378 
 
 XLIX. — DOCTOR OQUETOS EXALTED. A NOONDAY ESdALADE. 
 
 THE PRIZE TO THE VICTOR 389 
 
 I. —CONCLUSION , 400 
 
.> >...', y' '.■ 
 
 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED IM: 
 
 OR, 
 
 A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 ajter §nt. 
 
 UNDRED YEAES AGO 
 
 Stop I for thy tread Is on an Empire's dusjt." 
 
 AS the eye rests on the map of the American Republic, and 
 notes the innumerable cities, towns, and villages wMch 
 dot its surface, it is difficult to realize that but little more 
 than two centuries have elapsed since this whole region was 
 a vast and scarcely broken wilderness. Especially to him 
 who has learned from observation something of the real grow^th 
 and civilization, the resources and the power, of this common- 
 wealth ; who is not only familiar with the Atlantic slope, but 
 has penetrated the vast interior, stopping not east of the Al- 
 leghanies, nor yet east of the Mississippi ; who has traversed 
 the noble Hudson, viewed our canals, flown over our rail- 
 roads ; and, compassing the northern lakes, has descended the 
 father of rivers, pushing his way into the interminable West ; 
 literally led on, as his steam- ship cleft the waves, by a cloud 
 by day and a pillar of ftre by night ; and who, ever as he went, 
 has found an active and intelligent population, enjoying the 
 
 1* 
 
10 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEIT. 
 
 distinctive comforts of civilized life, the frequent church, 
 school-house, and printing-press, the bustling mart and the 
 luxurious city, skirted by hills and vales and prairies teeming 
 with fruit and yellow grain, a thousand miles beyond the sea- 
 board — especially to one who has witnessed all this, do the 
 changes which so short a period has wrought seem like the 
 fabled work of enchantment. The forest, as it were, in a day 
 has been turned into a smiling and cultivated landscape — the 
 desert in a night been made to blossom as the rose. 
 
 So late as the middle of the eighteenth century, the period 
 near which the events narrated in these pages are supposed 
 to have occurred, but a small portion of those vast continental 
 improvements, at which we have glanced, had been effected. 
 These United States were then colonies of the British crown ; 
 and as yet no day-dream or vision of sleep had presented to 
 the imaginations of the hardy colonists a glimpse of the mag- 
 nificent future which awaited them. New York was at that 
 time a bustling town of some ten -or twelve thousand inhabit- 
 ants ; and Boston, and Philadelphia — the city of the meek and 
 philanthropic Penn — both of about the same size and preten- 
 sions, were its active rivals. These three towns formed the 
 strongholds of that portion of North America which owed al- 
 legiance to Great Britain. The French held the Canadas and 
 Louisiana, and bore themselves proudly in their fortresses of 
 Quebec and Montreal, and on the bosoms of their boasted 
 rivers the St. Lawrence and the Mississippi. The Spanish 
 possessed Florida. The Atlantic and Gulf coasts, it is- true, 
 from Acadia to the Bayous of Louisiana, were dotted with fre- 
 quent settlements, many of them in a prosperous condition, 
 and gradually reaching inland. The good Dutch city of Al- 
 bany was also at that period a place of note, and sheltered 
 under its motherly wings several contiguous hamlets ; but 
 these, in 1750, were frontier points, marking the extreme 
 bounds of civilized life ; while all beyond, save an occasional 
 
A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. H 
 
 Indian trading post, or military fastness, like Niagara or Du 
 Quesne, still retained its original features ; and unmarred by 
 the cunning devices of Europeans, was yet under the joint do- 
 minion of the beasts and the savages. I'he entire white popu- 
 lation at this period, of British, French, and that part of 
 Spanish America which has been named, did not probably 
 exceed a million and a quarter ; or that of one of the second- 
 class States of our present Republic. 
 
 A hundred years ago the Indian tribes bordering on the 
 Atlantic formed an important element in the history of the 
 times. The Six Nations, in particular, w^ere then in the glory 
 of their strength, and powerful enough to make themselves 
 both feared and respected. Proud, eloquent, and warlike, they 
 furnished a favorable specimen of the original man of America ; 
 
 "and were alike the terror of their savage neighbors, and the 
 whites who provoked their hostility. England and France, 
 in their struggle for the mastery in the New World, found it 
 necessary to court the friendship and alliance of this aboriginal 
 confederacy ; and by their constant intrigues involved it in a 
 succession of domestic broils, and exterminating wars with 
 neighboring tribes, which, in connection with the civilized 
 vices introduced among them, and the destruction of their 
 hunting-grounds, induced a rapid decrease of their numbers 
 and decay of their power. It is a melancholy reflection that 
 like causes seem still operating with fatal certainty toward the 
 ultimate total extinction of the Indian name on the American 
 Continent. " " 
 
 At the present period scarcely a vestige of the Six Nations 
 
 Remains. The inhabitant of central New York, as he surveys 
 his luxuriant domain, or moves among the bustle and display 
 of some new-made city, a Utica, a Rochester, a Buffalo, 
 sprung into being in a night, like the magic palace of Aladdin, 
 stops not to think that within the memory of some centennial 
 father still alive, this garden of the State was the center of a 
 
12 CA3IP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 powerful Indian commonwealth, which had its armies of brave 
 and noble warriors, its eloquent orators and priests, its fre- 
 quent villages, its orchards, and meadows, and cultivated fields, 
 and that he holds his tenure by the extinction of the council 
 fires of a broad empire. Little do any of us stop to consider, 
 as curiosity induces a hasty examination of the frequent 
 mounds with which many parts of our country are dotted, or 
 as the plowshare turns up some moldering relic of humanity, 
 that we are disturbing the boaes of the old lords of the soil, 
 whose destruction from among men has given place, and 
 wealth, and importance to this portion of the great American 
 Republic. 
 
 Time levels and again rebuilds. Change is the order of 
 nature. Not nations and people alone, but every gradation of 
 existence ; the earth, and the seas and dry lands which com- 
 pose it ; the eternal hills, and the whole universe, so far as 
 human observation extends, are the subjects of this mutation. 
 Nothing is absolved, save the immutable laws, which the eye 
 of philosophy has but feebly scanned, that doubtless reduce 
 all changes, however incongruous they may appear, to a sys- 
 tem of general development and harmonious order. The old 
 world, or that part of it of which we know any thing, so far 
 back as the lamp of history sheds a glimmer, has ever been 
 altering like the figures of a kaleidoscope, or the shifting scenes 
 of a panorama. It is trite to speak of the glory of the East, 
 but who can cease to wonder at its story ? Who can forget 
 that Egypt was once the light of the world ; that Belshazzar 
 feasted in Babylon, with its hundred brazen gates ; that Jeru- 
 salem was set on a hill, and the pillars of its Temple were of 
 brass, and the hinges of its doors of pure gold ? Who caW 
 forget that strength cometh down from the north ; and that the 
 wizard star of empire ever moveth westward ? That mys- 
 terious star, slowly quitting Asia, poured its golden light, in 
 Luccession, on Greece, Rome, France, Spain, and Britain; 
 
A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. ^ 13 
 
 and at last hath risen on America ; where, with the promise 
 of an unusual altitude and splendor, it has spanned a continent 
 with its rays, from the rock-bound coast of New England to 
 the Golden Gate of California. Here may it rest for a time 
 in its march of destiny. 
 
 America is called young, but she is old. The ancient sun, 
 which hath seen all parts of the earth from the beginning, now 
 lights at least the morning of the second era of her greatness. 
 The existence of the first is alone known tons by vague tradi- 
 tion, and the ruins of its cities, its temples, and its tombs^ 
 over which forests, the growth of centuries, have clustered. 
 When these were built, or when they perished ; by whom they 
 were peopled, or by whom or what destroyed, are alike hid- 
 den and unknown. The cunning works of the artisan meet 
 the eye ; but the hands that wrought them are not to be 
 found ; and the account thereof, if ever written, has not come 
 down to us. 
 
fiifeajtu f to0 
 
 THE HEADER IS UNEXPECTEDLY INTRODUCED TO THE HERO OF THE STORY. 
 
 THE sun of a soft autumnal day, though far in its wane, was 
 still glowing with mellow luster on the frowning castle 
 and higher portions of the good city of Quebec, as a military 
 officer, in the full scarlet uniform of England, emerged from 
 one of the principal hotels of that place, known as the Uni- 
 corn, to take a birds-eye view of the town. -A female, hooped 
 and belted, with a hat and feather whose dimensions would 
 startle a modern belle, walked by his side, her hand lightly 
 resting on his arm, with a step as staid and military as his 
 own. 
 
 " Who are they ?" was eagerly asked by the cuiious French- 
 men who thronged the steps and bar-room of the tavern. The 
 host gravely shook his head ; but the questioners were old 
 friends and customers, and very shortly thinking better of it, 
 he informed them, in a confidential tone, that the strangers 
 were a British officer of rank, and his sister. 
 
 " When did they arrive ?" 
 
 " This morning." 
 
 " In the George the First, below ?*' 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 A grave silence of a minute or two followed, to give time, 
 as would seem, for the proper digestion of the important facts 
 elicited ; when one of the loungers again addressed the land- 
 lord : • 
 
 " It is singular, Gilbert, that a British officer of rank should 
 
TITE WHITE INDIAN BOY. 15 
 
 be prying about his Majesty's fortress oT Quebec, and nobody 
 know either his name or business. 
 
 " My friends," returned the prudent Gilbert, " you know 
 that I can deny you nothing. I trust every thing to your dis- 
 cretion, which I have so often tried. The gentleman is 
 Colonel Warwick, of the colony of New York ; and he is 
 here on a very delicate mission, a question of great importance 
 between the two crowns ; the nature of which Fdare not — 
 'pon my honor, you must excuse me — my life " 
 
 " Aha !" drawled the interrogator : and all present ex- 
 changed significant glances with each other, and with the dis- 
 creet host of the Unicorn. 
 
 Meanwhile the subjects of this dialogue were enjoying a 
 delightful stroll through the town. The officer admired the 
 castle, and the huge rocks and precipitous ascents which give 
 strength to Quebec as a military post ; the lady, the gentler 
 sights ; whatever was novel or imposing in architecture, taste- 
 ful in shrubbery and grounds ; and the river prospect, and dis- 
 tant hills, already variegated with those red and yellow tints 
 which, althouglf the first footprints of decay, by their brilliant 
 hues and contrasts shut from us the reflection that the year 
 is old and dying, and kindly clothe our autumnal landscapes, 
 as they approach the sleep of winter, in a gorgeous mantle of 
 beauty. 
 
 A period of silent admiration was at length interrupted by 
 the lady. 
 
 " See there, brother ; there are some Indians," said she, 
 pointing a little in advance, where a company of American 
 natives were seated on the ground, smoking and talking with 
 high garrulity. 
 
 " True, Betty," replied the officer ; " but surely by this time 
 Indians can be no great matter of wonderment to you. We 
 see them every day in New York." 
 
 " Yes, but look at that little fellow, there," continued the 
 
16 CAMP FIBES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 lady, pointing with h* fingei, " how fair he is !" We do not 
 have white Indians with us, Charles. I wonder if it is the 
 difference in the climate. See, he has bright flaxen hair, and, 
 for a marvel, blue eyes. If he were only washed and dress^ 
 properly, he would be a beautiful boy, brother." 
 
 The subject of these remarks, a pale, slender lad of some 
 seven years of age, was sitting a little apart from his com- 
 panions ; but except the peculiarities noted by Mistress War- 
 wick, there was nothing to distinguish him from the other 
 children of the party. A blanket was loosely thrown over his 
 shoulders, and beneath it was a shirt of some cotton stuff. 
 These two articles completed his apparel, his head and feet 
 being entirely bare. The expression of his countenance was 
 intelligent but- sad ; and as Colonel Warwick and his sister 
 approached, he arose, with a seeming consciousness that he 
 had attracted their attention. 
 
 " This is no Indian child," said the Colonel, addressing the 
 group. " Where did you get him ?" 
 
 But none of them understood English. The lad meanwhile 
 appeared to be singularly affected. At the sound of an En- 
 glish voice he started, his eye brightened, the blood rushed in 
 a volume to his pale face ; and he sprung forward as though 
 to throw himself in the Colonel's arms, but ere the act was 
 accomplished, s'hrunk back abashed, and stood trembling, with 
 his tearful eyes fastened on the countenance of the officer. 
 Colonel Warwick was affected. He took the child's hands in 
 his, and spoke to him in tones of kindness. He could, how- 
 ever, gain nothing intelligible in return. The youth replied 
 in an uncouth aboriginal dialect, and indeed appeared to change 
 to several different tongues, in the hope of being understood ; 
 but all were equally Greek to the kind-hearted officer. 
 
 The Colonel applied himself £ gain to the savages, in 
 French ; and this time with better success. But the inform- 
 ation he was able to gather from their broken replies was 
 
TEE WHITE INDIAN BOY. 17 
 
 meager in the extreme. They were either ignorant of the 
 history of the lad, or were determined to conceal it. They 
 were only certain of one fact, and that was that he was of 
 English parentage. The further account they gave was, in 
 substance, that some months previously, far in the interior, by 
 the Great Lake, the youth was given them by a warrior of 
 the Hurons ; and they acknowledged that one great motive of 
 their present visit to Quebec was to dispose of him for a sup- 
 ply of ammunition and blankets. 
 
 It will surprise no one that the hand of Colonel Warwick 
 instinctively sought his purse ; and that he paid without hesi- 
 tation the few guineas that were claimed as a ransom for the 
 child. Mistress Warwick, however, on comprehending the 
 transaction, held up her palms in horror. 
 
 " You are not going to buy him, brother, are you ? Awful ! 
 Who ever heard of buying a Christian before ?" 
 
 " Why, Betty !" returned the Colonel ; " pray what did you 
 pay for your maid. Sue ?" 
 
 " Ah, there you are hard on me, brother. But Snsannah is 
 black ; and every body buys and sells black people." 
 
 " At home, you mean, sister. In some parts of the world, 
 and this it seems is one of them, it is customary to buy and 
 sell white people." 
 
 Taking the little captive, whose eyes sparkled with pleas- 
 ure, by the hand. Colonel Warwick and his sister pursued 
 their ramble. 
 
 " But what in the name of goodness, Betty," exclaimed the 
 Colonel, " can I do with this young savage ? He seems a pleasr 
 ant little fellow enough." 
 
 " I was just turning the problem in my mind, brother," re- 
 plied Mistress Warwick. " If he looks as well as I think he 
 will, when he is washed, and respectably clothed, and gets 
 the tan off ; and should prove to be amiable and intellectual, 
 why not keep him yourself, and make a man of him ? You 
 
18 CAMP FIRES OF THS BED MEN, 
 
 are now getting along so far in life without marriage, that I 
 very seriously doubt whether that interesting event, with you, 
 is ever destined to occur ; and I can not but think that a child 
 in the house would often relieve you from ennuf." 
 
 " ^ight, Bet," said the Colonel with a laugh ; " and in that 
 particular it seems to me that your prospects and mine are 
 very like ; and as there is small probability of our ever being 
 troubled with children of our own, suppose we jointly take 
 charge of this helpless creature, and in this way pay, in part, 
 the debt we owe to society. As you are the head of my bach- 
 elor establishment, it seems needful that the act be one of co- 
 partnery." 
 
 " r will think of it," returned Mistress Warwick. " We will 
 see how he appears on acquaintance. Our means, you know, 
 brother, are limited, and we have needy relatives in England. 
 Our niece Julia, on the occurrence of a certain contingency, is 
 very likely to be thrown on our hands. Still, this poor little fel- 
 low must be cared for by somebody, and I will not shrink from 
 my share of the responsibility. I agree to your proposition, 
 Charles ; we will adopt him, and Julia, too, should it become 
 necessary." 
 
 " Spoken like yourself, Betty," said the Colonel. " We read 
 of the widow's cruse that never run dry, which is intended to 
 teach us that he who has a heart for charity shall not want 
 the means. I doubt not we shall have enough." 
 
 " But what shall we call the youngster ?" said Mistress 
 Warwick. " I suppose he has a name if we could only as- 
 certain it. Doubtless his real Christian name is lost forever ; 
 and he is now known by some heathenish Indian word, which 
 would hardly answer to introduce into good society. What 
 shall we call him, brother ?" 
 
 " Suit yourself as to a name, Betty," replied Colonel War- 
 wick. " But stay : if you think of nothing better, call him 
 Charles Warwick, Junior." ' ^ . 
 
TEE WHITE INDIAN BOY, 19 
 
 " What, after yourself?" 
 
 " Why not ? Where is the objection ?" 
 
 " Would it be exactly proper ?" said Mistress Warwick, very 
 deliberately. " Would not suspicious people make remarks?" 
 
 " Well, let them make remarks," rejoined the Colonel, firmly 
 " I have lived too long in this fault-finding world to care very 
 particularly whether people make remarks or not, especially 
 when unconscious of any improper conduct to induce it. Here, 
 Charles, you little rascal, look up ! Will you engage to be a 
 good boy, and love me, if I give you my own name ? No 
 doubt, no doubt." 
 
 Thus saying. Colonel Warwick took his pitiful charge m. 
 his arms, and gave him a hearty embrace ; and unmindful of 
 the crowd of loungers congregated about the Unicorn, who 
 verily did both stare and make remarks at the singular exhibi- 
 tion, bore him, in a sort of triumnh, into the hotel» and to his 
 own room. 
 
THE YOUTH SO OPPORTUNELY DISCOVERED, APPROVES HIMSELF A LAD OP 
 PARTS, WITH SOMETHING OF THE FEELINGS OF A MAN. 
 
 COLONEL WARWICK belonged to that large but honor- 
 able category of younger sons of consequential families, 
 who in England, time out of mind, that the representative of the 
 house may be sustained with becoming revenues and dignity, 
 have been crowded, with a very slim provision, into the several 
 professions. He selected that of arms, and had served his 
 country at home and abroad, in both Indies, and America, with 
 ability and success. Without the aid of special favoritism, he 
 had gradually risen from a starting-point sufficiently obscure 
 to his present honorable position in his Britannic Majesty's 
 service. With elevation of rank came increase of emolument, 
 so that, with his unexpensive habits, as age began to appear 
 in the perspective, he had the consolation to know that he had 
 secured a moderate competency for his declining days. With 
 this, at one time, he had meditated retiring from his profession, 
 and seeking the rewards of a life of toil and hardship in do- 
 mestic quiet. But then the meridian of life was passed. 
 W^hen he would have married, he had been prevented both by 
 his poverty, and the unsettled manner and uncertain tenure of 
 the life he led : and now he very justly doubted the propriety 
 of encumbering himself with a wife, or a wife with him. 
 Marriage, he was accustomed to say, was a thing that a man 
 should get used to in his youth, in order to enjoy it. With 
 him, he could not but think the ^ eriod of honey moons was 
 
TEE YOUTH OF YOUNG WARWICK. 21 
 
 passed. He could not keep up with the agility of a young 
 wife, who would always be ahead of him ; and to an old ono 
 there were objections which gallantry forbade him to name ; 
 so that he would ever continue to subscribe himself Charles 
 Warwick, bachelor, till death ; happy in being honored, if 
 not caressed. 
 
 Having formed a deliberate judgment, he was not the man 
 to swerve from it ; and accordingly proceeded to attach to 
 himself a maiden sister, of nearly his own age, and accepted 
 an easy berth in America. There, for the last few years, princi- 
 pally in New York, life with both had passed, if not joyfully, at 
 least quietly, and with few regrets. Under somewhat of a 
 stiff exterior, the brother and sister, in reality, concealed quali- 
 ties which do honor to our nature : and if to strange eyes they 
 appeared stately and old-fashioned, when one came to know 
 them better, he could not fail to admire the affectionate sim- 
 plicity and purity of their lives. Their present journey to 
 Canada was solely one of pleasure, and not a government affair, 
 as the publican of the Unicorn, for the sake of creating won- 
 der, and magnifying his own consequence, had so impudently 
 asserted. 
 
 The morning subsequent to the events i\arrated in the pre- 
 ceding chapter. Mistress Warwick arose, and with all con- 
 venient dispatch proceeded to look after her charge. She 
 found him in the street fronting the hotel, the cap and shoes 
 which had been prc^^ided for him the evening before laid aside, 
 engaged, with bow and arrow, in a heroic attack on the non- 
 descript beast which bore himself so grimly upon the apex of 
 mine host's sign-post. 
 
 " Charles ! Charles ! my child," exclaimed the good matron,^ 
 " what are you about 1 Come in, my dear, out of the sun and 
 dust." 
 
 The lad, without comprehending a word she uttered, threw 
 by his weapons and tripped toward her, his face beaming 
 
22 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEK 
 
 with happiness and smiles. He yielded himself to her with 
 perfect docility, and showed himself anxious and ready to 
 comprehend her wishes and obey them. She directed him by 
 signs, and he resumed his cap and shoes ; and on being made 
 to understand that he should perform an ablution, he bounded 
 away to the river, which was near by, and very shortly was 
 plunging and swimming, a rival to the ducks. 
 
 Mistress Warwick in alarm sought the Colonel. 
 
 " Brother ! brother !" said she, " Indian Charles is in the 
 St. Lawrence. Come quickly, or he will be drowned !" 
 
 She led him to a windo\y where a view of the white savage 
 was to be obtained, as he laved his limbs and sported in the 
 waves, with the freedom of a dolphin. The Colonel burst into 
 a loud laugh. 
 
 " I think not, Betty," said he. " I should sooner expect to 
 drown a Newfoundland dog than that fish of a child. He 
 seems as much at home there as a waterfowl ; and were my 
 classic lore not long since dissipated, I should say he was 
 quite fit to become a page to Neptune himself, or any other of 
 the gods of the sea." 
 
 The garments which had been bespoken were soon brought 
 home, and Master Charles was arrayed in a neat and fash- 
 ionable suit. The improvement in his appearance, in conse- 
 quence, was matter of great congratulation to his kind mis- 
 tress ; and every body seemed better pleased at the change 
 than the lad himself. He liked the hafidsome articles well 
 enough, as he held them in his hand ; but being robed in them 
 was a very different concern. His limbs, accustomed to free 
 and unrestricted motion, could not well brook the prison of 
 close breeches and coat ; he could neither stand, nor sit, nor 
 walk with any ease ; and much less could he run, as was his 
 wont, like the wild colt of the prairie, through field, and forest, 
 and river, thus encumbered. The struggle to endure them, 
 ere use had rendered them familiar, almost made him melan- 
 
TEE YOUTH OF TOUXG WARWICK, 23 
 
 choly, and came near disgusting him at the outset/ with the 
 modes of civilized life. 
 
 As Colonel and Mistress Warwick were not of the number 
 of those who perform their benevolent actions by the halves, 
 they at once set about the due instruction of their protege. 
 By turns, or conjointly, as fancy or convenience dictated, the 
 good old bachelor and maid busied themselves with teaching 
 him to speak the English tongue, of which, if he ever had any 
 knowledge, no vestige now remained. The first lesson con- 
 sisted in familiarizing him with the name of every thing he 
 saw ; repeating to him, and encouraging him to utter, those 
 mysterious sounds which, to the initiated, so readily call up 
 visions of chairs, tables, fire, water, trees, the clouds, the sun ; 
 and all other substantive things, material or immaterial, in the 
 wide universe of creation or thought. 
 
 But leaving the Colonel to bring the exercises of the first 
 morning to a satisfactory conclusion. Mistress Warwick, as 
 mothers and maiden aunts in behalf of their pets are very apt 
 to do during the holidays — and to Master Charles, the §arly 
 days of his liberation were emphatically such — silently slipped 
 on her hat and shawl and went shopping. An alphabet and 
 some books of simple reading, as things of absolute necessity, 
 were first procured ; next, as an ofi'set to the useful, a large 
 basket of sundries, viz., a bulky package of confections ; a 
 dumb watch, which had the voice of a watch, inasmuch as it 
 could be wound up with a clatter, but the hands were painted 
 on its face ; a wooden lion ; a dog on rockers that barked out 
 of his back ; a black svi^an ; a pewter cavalry-man who marched 
 on wheels ; a nightingale which sung with a bellows ; a tin 
 sword, and a wooden gun. 
 
 Such was the sporting establishment of a young gentleman 
 of six or seven, a hundred years ago ; and in this respect, it 
 must be confessed, the age of improvement has made but little 
 change. Toys, however, constitute very properly with child- 
 
24 CA2IP FIIIL'S OF THE RED ME.Y. 
 
 hood, the grave affairs of life. Alaster Charles examined the 
 collection of holiday trinkets, of which he had so unexpectedly 
 come in the possession, with curious eyes ; but when he was 
 made to comprehend that he should amuse himself by rocking 
 his dog, or marching his soldier on wheels, he pushed them 
 from him with an expression bordering on contempt. Mistress 
 Warwick was surprised, and thought him a strange child ; the 
 Colonel shrugged his shoulders, and called him a sensible one. 
 A few days terminated the stay of the British officer and 
 his sister at Quebec; when, accompanied by the child they 
 had rescued from b mdage, they returned to New York. 
 
ni^ttx iaux. 
 
 Oim HKBO IS EAPIDLT LED ON INTO THE BEALITIBS OP LIFE AND MANHOOD. 
 
 " Look throueh the garden and the sunny vale, 
 IJpon the beds and by the streamlets sighing, 
 And blight hath struck and turned the biightest palft— 
 The lily droops, the fairest rose is dying." 
 
 rr^HE reader will please accept the youth, with a fair skin 
 -i and the habits of a savage, to whose informal christening in 
 the streets of Quebec he was a witness, as the hero of this 
 history. His benefactors placed him at school. At first he 
 w. s a dull scholar, so far as books were concerned ; but 
 showed himself apt at acquiring oral language and ideas 
 which were presented to him in any other form than through 
 the routine of his lessons. Slowly he gave up his wild cus- 
 toms, and adopted the manners of civilization, and with all 
 was tractable and kind, and approved himself a lad of parts 
 and promise. Colonel and Mistress Warwick became fondly 
 attached to him, and gradually came to regard him in the light 
 of a son. 
 
 Until he became sufficiently acquainted with the English 
 tongue to express himself clearly, Colonel Warwick carefully 
 refrained from any allusion to his early history. Then, indeed 
 he questioned him with much minuteness, hoping to gain some 
 clew as to his parentage, a subject which, at some future period, 
 he was aware could not fail to become one of engrossing inter- 
 est to the youth himself. He found the lad's recollection im- 
 perfect and fragmentary. He had no knowledge of a mother. 
 
 2 
 
26 CA3fP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 His father he remembered distinctly, but his name, calling, 
 or place of abode was beyond his recall. He was inclined to 
 think that he had never seen a white man until he was taken 
 to Quebec ; and that his father was an Indian, but quite differ- 
 ent, he admitted, from other savages. He had loved this parent 
 tenderly, and recollected well that he was forcibly separated 
 from him. A savage, called by different unpronounceable 
 names in different localities, had seized him while at play 
 and borne him off. The image of a vast precipice, down 
 which at one time his captor was about to hurl him, was in- 
 delibly impressed on his memory ; and he was quite certain 
 that at the moment when this great danger was impending, 
 his father was on the other side of the gulf, pressing on to his 
 rescue. But he never saw that father more. His Indian mas- 
 ter urged him forward. They traveled a weary way over' 
 rivers and lakes, and through interminable wildernesses, and 
 at length found rest with a strange and distant tribe. But this 
 was only temporary. Soon his uneasy captor was on the wing 
 again, and for years they wandered from tribe to tribe, until 
 the^ savage, apparently tired of his charge, passed him into the 
 hands of the party who had taken him to Quebec. 
 
 Such was the sum of the information which, with much 
 painstaking. Colonel Warwick was able to extract from the be- 
 clouded memory of his adopted son relative to the incidents of 
 his early life. He was disappointed. He had hoped for more. 
 Still, it is not improbable that he loved him all the better for 
 the loneliness of his condition and the mystery which sur- 
 rounded him. The boy seemed more completely his own. 
 
 The history of children, even remarkable ones, is not always 
 either interesting or instructive ; and we shall make no apology 
 for the haste with which we pass over the remaining period 
 of the childhood of our hero, to the time when he commenced 
 to work out the destiny of his life. With him the lapse of 
 years made very great changes. At ten, few traces of his sav- 
 
FIRST EXPERIENCES OF MANHOOD. 27 
 
 age habits remained. He was a fair, gentle, intelligent boy, 
 exhibiting, on occasion, much energy and courage. As he still 
 advanced in age, a thoughtful cast of character and a fine 
 sense of the beautiful were developed. Books became a pas- 
 sion with him ; and nature, quiet, lovely nature, almost a sub- 
 ject of adoration. He delighted to rove by brooks and streams, 
 to clamber up the hillside, and cull the wild-wood flowers. 
 Each mount, and rock, and stream, and dell possessed its sep- 
 arate charm, and even the simple tree as it towered alone, 
 and stood out relieved against the sky, was to him a vision of 
 delight. Poetry, music, and eloqiiencc had the power to stir 
 every faculty of his soul, and thrilled along his nerves with a 
 vibration as distinct as though they had been the strings of a 
 harp touched by the fingers of a player. But when the ele 
 ments were astir, when Nature put on her gala-dress of storms, 
 and, marshaling her black squadrons in the sky, with the voice 
 of thunders, and with flames, and winds, and waters, made war, 
 as it were, on herself, he was rapt in a sort of ecstacy : he 
 saw no danger, and he felt no fear. 
 
 Such was the youth whom Colonel Warwick had rescuetl 
 from the ignorance and degradation of a savage. Still, with 
 all his fervency of imagination, young Charles Warwick re- 
 garded men and things with a clear, unclouded eye. He 
 early saw that life was a very different affair from the pictures 
 of his fancy, or the descriptions of the romancers, and accom- 
 modated himself to it. The conviction, it is true, cost him a 
 struggle and a pang ; and if ever he sighed for a forest life 
 again, it was when the stern realities of existence, disrobed 
 of all poetic drapery, became a truth to his mind and the gov- 
 erning principle of his actions. 
 
 At school, his genius and temperament were not always 
 understood. He was a close student, but quite too excursive 
 in his researches to command the praises and awards of the 
 faculty. He had many friendly admirers but few intimates. 
 
28 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED STEN. 
 
 The society of the gentler sex was to him a source of elevated 
 enjoyment ; and still he found himself unfitted for the gay 
 trifling, of which good society, then as now, was composed. 
 His disposition was sensitive : he possessed a keen appreci- 
 ation of the ludicrous, and a strict sense of integrity which 
 forbade, from the first, that he should ever play with that deli- 
 cate and fragile instrument — a woman's heart. He was ac- 
 cordingly regarded by some as unduly timid and reserved. 
 
 It is not to be supposed but that his peculiar situation, de- 
 pendent, though he was never made to feel it, and at the same 
 time ignorant if even a drop of kindred blood flowed in the 
 veins of any living creature, operated powerfully, nay, at times, 
 preyed like a vulture on his heart. Had he a father ? a 
 mother ? brothers or sisters ? He would have given worlds 
 to know. But memory was tortured in vain. Her stores, if 
 any she had, were deeply buried, far beyond the reach of rec- 
 ollection. He barely remembered a father, but even the quar- 
 ter of the globe in which he lived was to him unknown. 
 
 At twenty, Charles Warwick entered on the active business 
 of life as a soldier. Circumstances, especially the predilec- 
 tion of his benefactor, to which the ardent temperament of 
 the youth himself was by no means opposed, had conspired to 
 make him one ; and he commenced his career, as is the pleas- 
 ing privilege of the young, with high hopes and an honorable 
 ambition, which perceived in the future no point too elevated 
 t6 be attained. His general duties were not arduous. It was 
 now a period of repose with the Colonies. England and 
 France were resting on their weapons after the peace of Aix- 
 la-Chapelle, and secretly strengthening themselves for the 
 struggle which followed. The principal source of anxiety 
 was an unquiet condition of the Confederacy of the Six Na- 
 tions, with whom the emissaries of France were known to be 
 tampering ; and in protracted negotiations with those children 
 of the forest, it was the rare good fortune of our young soldier 
 
FmST ETPEliTES^CES OF ifA VffOOD. 29 
 
 to distinguish himself, and in a civil rather than a military 
 field. He exhibited a knowledge of Indian character, and a 
 tact in the management and conciliation of the red men, which 
 were duly appreciated in the proper quarters, and rewarded 
 with a very gratifying advance of rank and consequence. 
 
 Meanwhile age was setting his seal in deeper and deeper 
 characters on the features of Colonel and Mistress Warwick. 
 In the absence of their protege, however, they were still con- 
 soled by the presence of their niece Julia, whom they had not 
 failed to invite from England, and who, of nearly the same 
 age as our hero, had been brought up as his companion and 
 playmate, and been taught to regard him as a brother. On his 
 part the feeling was fully reciprocated. He looked on the 
 gentle blue-eyed girl as a sister, and gave her strength, as the 
 sun invigorates a flower ; while she, in return, leaned on him 
 in confiding trust, and looked with happy pride on his strong 
 and manly qualities, and was of a disposition so meek that it 
 never occurred to her to be jealous of the favor and expense 
 which her relations showered upon him, an unknown found 
 ling though he was. But Julia was also of a delicate frame, 
 and soon the seeds of disease developed themselves in her 
 system, and she saw, and all saw, that she would shortly be 
 called to go hence. The event occurred just as young War- 
 wick had won his first laurels in the strife of manhood. The 
 maiden fell asleep, like a flower withered in the morning, 
 though willing to fold its petals for the once, that it might burst 
 into a richer and imperishable bloom, in the empire of the 
 skies. 
 
 It is said that the strokes of fate rarely come single ; and 
 so the soft eyes of Julia were hardly closed on the light of 
 life, when she was followed by her guardian and more than 
 father, Colonel Warwick. His illness was short, and he died 
 as he had lived, calmly, and at peace with all the world. His 
 latest breath called down blessings on the head of his son ; 
 
30 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 and he expired in his arms. This double stroke was a heavy 
 one to young Charles Warwick ; it gave him a new insight 
 into life, and the materials whereof it is composed. 
 
 Oh Death ! thou never sleepest ; and when least expected, 
 thy fleshless fingers are upon us. Thou art like the winds, 
 visiting all things, and culling thy victims by the touch, for 
 thou art blind. Else wouldst thou spare the fair, the gentle, 
 and the good, and confine thy ravages to those who burden 
 the earth with their sins ; and to the ripe sheaf, which has 
 sunned out its day, which should not, and cares not to say thee 
 nay. But thou art no respecter of persons. Thou strikest 
 down age and youth alike, even the flower, which as yet but 
 for a day has been fanned by the perfumed air of life. Thine 
 iron hand is on the world. Thou marchest with thy scythe 
 in advance of the conqueror, and when thou wiliest, turnest 
 upon him. Thou speakest to kings and they tremble. Thou 
 breathest on nations and they die. And yet thou art the 
 good Angel of Deliverance and Hope. 
 
€]mut iht. 
 
 THE BARNKGAT HOTEL. A LANDSCAPE BY THE SEA. 
 
 " Cease to lament for that thou canst not help.' 
 
 WE ttre now approaching a period in the life of Charies 
 Warwick when the events of years can no longer be 
 crowded into a chapter. We have dwelt sufficiently on his 
 youth, and sketched with sufficient distinctness the character 
 of his mind, to prepare the reader for any act which, in his 
 subsequent career, it may become our business to narrate. 
 
 Colonel Warwick left a will, by which his moderate fortune 
 was bequeathed jointly to his sister and his adopted son ; with 
 the single proviso, that the youth continue to bear his name. 
 But what is money to a wounded spirit ? Grief, pale, corroding 
 grief, which for the time overshadowed every hope and antici- 
 pation of life, sorrow for the ripe sheaf, sorrow for the flower, 
 lay at the heart of the young soldier so coldly as nearly to sever 
 the hold of his afi*ections on the world. It was the unrestrained 
 woe of Mistress Warwick, his mother, as he had been taught 
 and delighted to call her, and the necessity of making an at- 
 tempt to console her, which first enforced on him the propri- 
 ety of curbing his own grief. In soothing her he occupied 
 his mind, and discovered in addition that in the holy task there 
 was also consolation for himself. Soon his own good sense 
 instructed him, that though the dead should be kindly remem- 
 bered, it is vain, worse than vain, to inordinately grieve for 
 them. The living claim our care ; the dead are in the hands 
 
32 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEK 
 
 of Him who gave them to the world, and took them from it ; 
 and it is not sound reason to suppose that our departed friends, 
 though they may still be cognizant of our actions — angels 
 floating round us — are at all gratified with our unceasing tears 
 and lamentations. No griefs, no perplexities, no possible 
 combination of calamities, should ever be suffered to break 
 down the energies of the mind. Religion and philosophy alike 
 teach us this, alike inculcate resignation to the inevitable ills 
 of life, and alike encourage us under all circumstances to hope.' 
 True, such is the weakness of our nature, and the dimness of 
 our faith, that it seems nearly inevitable that we should be- 
 come prostrated by some of those sudden anii tiremendous 
 strokes which occasionally visit us ; but the mind ought to be 
 so well balanced as to recover its strength with a rebound al- 
 most as sudden as the shock ; and very shortly, its perfect 
 buoyancy : and he is a man indeed, who has so schooled and 
 braced his mental powers that no event can shake them, and 
 still preserves in their freshness those sensibilities and sym- 
 pathies which are the redeeming and most beautiful traits of 
 the human character. 
 
 But with most persons time is the only effectual soother of 
 sorrow, and thus Warwick found it. Busied again with the 
 duties of his profession and the cares of life, the present ulti- 
 mately resumed its hold over him, and anon other hopes and 
 anticipations took the place of those which were blighted. 
 He regained his spirits ; and though the past was by no meajgis 
 obliterated from his memory, it receded from the forefront of 
 the mental screen to the background, where it remained like 
 the haze of twilight or a distant cloud. 
 
 It was near the evening of a fine spring day when our 
 young officer and his aged mother, on their return from the 
 South, whither they had been on a tour of health and pleasure, 
 as far as Jamestown, in the Colony of Virginia, found them- 
 selves at a hotel, overlooking the sea, in a most wild and pic- 
 
THE TA YEBN BY THE SEA. 33 
 
 turesque portion of New Jersey. The house was a low, old- 
 fashioned red building, covering considerable ground ; and was 
 very comfortably fitted up for a country establishment of the 
 period ; but there was one peculiarity about it which could 
 not fail to strike a stranger with surprise. The furniture and 
 appendages seemed to have been gathered from the four quar- 
 ters of the globe, and with a very small reference to propriety 
 or fitness. Broken masts and spars, ropes and torn sails, 
 anchors and pieces of ordnance, lay scattered around ; and a 
 marble figure of Apollo, of respectable workmanship, kept 
 guard over a water-trough in the court-yard. Within, the con- 
 trast was equally remarkable. Rich sofas and chairs, Turkey 
 carpets of disproportionate size to the floors they covered, and 
 spread about without order ; pier-glasses, vases, marble tables, 
 pictures, and damask curtains were mixed in with wooden 
 benches, deal stools and tables, and other rustic furniture. 
 This incongruity at once attracted the notice of our travelers, 
 who, aware that this coast was famous for its shipwrecks, 
 came to the conclusion that many of the articles in question 
 had been rescued from the deep ; and that each, could 
 it speak, might tell a story involving something beyond 
 insensible matter — a tale of human vicissitudes and sor- 
 rows. 
 
 After supper, Mistress Warwick and her son walked out 
 upon the cliffs which overlooked the ocean. The verdure of 
 the region seemed principally confined to the acclivity occu- 
 pied by the hotel. There was a background of stunted trees 
 md distant hills, interspersed with occasional cleared patches 
 and mean huts. In front, at the foot of a ragged line of cliffs, 
 was a broken beach, and the interminable and deceptive sea, 
 disfigured with projecting rocks, which sufficiently indicated 
 the dangers of the coast. To the right, the shore curved in- 
 land ; and in the distance, as far as the eye could reach, pre- 
 sented to the view a sandy plain slightly varied by elevations, 
 
 2* 
 
34 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 and devoid of vegetation, save an occasional shrub oak or yel- 
 low pine. * 
 
 The history of that coast has long been written in storms 
 and human disaster. Now, however, it was at the close of a 
 calm day ; the gulls floated in the air, and fearlessly dropped 
 down and dipped their white breasts in the measured waves, 
 as they foiled in ceaseless succession against the shore ; and 
 the line of hazy blue which bounded the reach of vision in 
 the distance over the water, looked like the entrance into 
 fairy-land. 
 
 Having noted the several impressive points in the prospect, 
 the mind of Mistress Warwick, as is customary with the aged, 
 reverted to other days and other scenes connected with her 
 early life. She recurred to merry England ; and, aided by a 
 clouded recollection, the enchantment which distance lends to 
 objects, and the faithful predilections of a first love, which 
 fasten our hearts to our father-land, wherever and whatever it 
 may be, she spoke in glowing terms of the beauty, and wealth, 
 and splendor of the mother-country. She dwelt on the garden- 
 ike appearance of its whole extent ; the beauty of its hills, 
 and vales, and rivers, and sea-girdled shores ; its trellised cot- 
 tages and frowning castles ; the magnificence of its cities ; the 
 grandeur of its aristocracy, its nobles, its prelates, and its king; 
 with all which America presented but a poor comparison. 
 
 " In fine, Charles," continued the good lady, as the sea- 
 fowl circled and screamed around her head, " the vel-y birds 
 here are quite a diff'erent affair from what they are in the old 
 country. They are nothing so fine in their plumage, nor so 
 sweet in their songs." 
 
 Charles ventured to suggest that a comparison between the 
 notes of the European nightingale and the American sea-mew 
 was hardly appropriate. 
 
 " But," continued Mistress Warwick, " I have recently 
 thought that the domestic fowls of this country even are not 
 
TBE TA VERN BY THE SEA. 35 
 
 to be compared in size or beauty with those of Britain ; and 
 the fruits and trees, I feel very certain, are quite inferior." 
 
 ' 'Mother," said Warwick, kindly, " England is a noble coun- 
 try, without a doubt ; and if it be at all necessary to your com- 
 fort, we will go there. You know I have not so great a love 
 for lords and kings as some, having never been much accus- 
 tomed to them ; still there are many things across the water I 
 should be glad to see ; and were it otherwise, if to go will add 
 to your happiness, it will also add to mine." 
 
 " I very well know that, my child," returned the matron , 
 " but still, at my age, I am doubtful of the propriety of under- 
 taking so long a voyage. There are many things, too, in the 
 Colonies I should regret to leave ; and after all, England 
 might not seem to me now as it did in olden times, and per- 
 haps it is better that I should have it to think of, as memory 
 brings it before me, than to find it changed, as other things 
 have changed. But see, Charles, what an alteration there is 
 in the sky ! I fear we shall get a storm." 
 
 Truly, while this brief conversation was in progress, dark, 
 wavy clouds had been sweeping up the eastern horizon, the 
 wind had sensibly freshened ; and there was that tense, and at 
 the same time tremulous, feel of the air which betokens strife 
 in the elements. Warw ck hastened his companion to the 
 shelter of the house. 
 
ajter 3h 
 
 DANDIWOKK OF THE OCEAN. - A SHIPWRECK THROWS SOME NOBLE FOEEIGN- 
 KKS INTO THE KEADER's SOCIETY. THE LADY VIOLA. 
 
 " Leave not my Anah to the swallowing tides." __ 
 
 HAVING placed his charge in safety, our young soldier be- 
 took himself again to the cliffs, to watch the storm which 
 he felt confident was approaching. The black clouds were 
 spreading over the horizon like squadrons of armed men ; and 
 night rushed on the earth, as though the sky were suddenly 
 hung with a curtain. The shadows of darkness came like 
 rolling waves quickly succeeding each other, and so distinct 
 that they seemed almost sensible to the touch. As yet there 
 was no rain ; but the winds were moaning in fitful and threat- 
 ening gusts, and the great ocean complained and trembled like 
 a frightened child. 
 
 If there be such a thing as fascination in nature, it would 
 seem to be experienced in those awful moments of preparation 
 which precede the'Tt)ursting of a tempest. Warwick stood 
 upon the cliffs, and bared his head and bosom to the winds. 
 Gradually the low-muttering thunder gathered strength, and 
 deeper and nearer burst in rapid succession, until flash and 
 report were simultaneous, and the explosions were of such 
 force as to jar the rocks on which he was standing. The 
 lightnings played around him like wild, spectral horses breath- 
 ing fire and smoke. He felt their warm breath on his face, and 
 the subtile fluid in his veins ; and a sickening faintness came 
 
 1 
 
THE LADY VIOLA. 37 
 
 over him. But he felt no fear : he was spell^bound. For an 
 instant the entire landscape would be lighted up with more than 
 the brilliancy of the sun, and again as suddenly shut in with a 
 darkness as black as that of the caves of Erebus. The sea, he 
 perceived, had already become lashed into a fury. The winds 
 swept over it with the power of the fiercest hurricane, molding 
 it at its will into every form of wild and fantastic beauty. 
 
 But such violence could not long endure ; and as the wind 
 lulled, the rain came down in torrents. The thunder was less 
 incessant, and the descending floods seemed to obey its man- 
 date. They would slacken, as though the great mysterious 
 forces of nature were arranging their batteries for a fresh on- 
 set. Then would come the discharge again — a startling, jar- 
 ring peal, a sublime, terrible voice for the night ; the moment- 
 ary flash would show the clouds rent and flying, and the water 
 would rush to the earth as though driven by some tremendous 
 engine of the sky. 
 
 But the hurricane had evidently reached its height, and was 
 abating. During the fall of rain, Warwick had found a con- 
 venient shelter in a little lookout-box, perched on the height 
 of the cliffs ; and now, satisfied with the displays of the night, 
 he was about seeking the protection of the inn, when his ear 
 caught the report of a gun on the ocean. It was repeated ; 
 and as the lightning shed a broad illumination over the waste 
 of waters, he discovered a ship under bare poles, at no great 
 distance from the shore, and driving at a rapid rate directly 
 toward the rocks which lined the beach. He lost no time in 
 conveying the intelligence to the hotel. 
 
 The publican, a square-built, weather-beaten man, with the 
 air and manners of one who had followed the sea, received 
 the announcement with a stolidity bordering on indifference. 
 There was a slight twinkle in his eye, however, as though the 
 intelligence was not altogether unpleasant to him, and draw- 
 ing a brand from the blazing wood-fire on the hearth, he passed 
 
38 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 out through a side door. A moment after, Warwick was 
 startled at the report of a cannon, so near the house as to jar 
 it and rattle the glass in the windows. This was immediately- 
 followed by the whizz and glare of a bevy of rockets ; and these 
 in their turn by a bonfire, which seemed to burst into being 
 without hands, on the cliffs, and blazed up into a broad column 
 of fire which could be seen for many miles. But the publican 
 knew what he was about. These were intended as signals, 
 both to encourage the endangered vessel, and to gather the 
 scattered inhabitants of the region to the coast. He then 
 collected his retainers, and with Warwick proceeded to the 
 shore. 
 
 The storm had ceased, save that the wind was still blowing 
 freshly. The Clouds were flashing a parting salute, and flee- 
 ing iri broken masses from the sky. All was fair, and fra- 
 grant, and hopeful, except the writhing ocean, and the disabled 
 ship, with her freight of life. At a glance it was evident that 
 she must go ashore, and equally certain that no boat could 
 live in such a sea. 
 
 Warwick, with a trepidation that indicated little familiarity 
 with such scenes, inquired if nothing could be done to rescue 
 the exposed wretches. 
 
 " Nothing," answered the landlord. " Their only hope is 
 m Heaven and their boats, when the ship strikes." 
 
 Meanwhile, as the dying flashes of lightning afforded 
 glimpses of the vessel, her decks were discovered crowded 
 with human beings in every attitude of exertion and despair. 
 The gathering wreckers on the cliffs shouted to encourage 
 them, and a faint response came up from the deep, which 
 sounded like a muflled wail, rather than a voice of hope. 
 
 " There is a channel," said the publican, " if they under- 
 stand the shore, and can keep their craft in it. They are 
 threading it," continued he, as the vessel for a moment was 
 visible, stoutly struggling in the midst of the breakers, with 
 
THE LADY VIOLA. - 39 
 
 a single strip of canvas set, and apparently answering her 
 helm. 
 
 But the courage which the landlord's remark inspired was 
 fated to be suddenly dissipated. There was a crash out on 
 the sea, and shrieks came up from the waves — those shrieks 
 of agony and terror which mortals only utter at the moment 
 of sudden and decisive fate, and though faint to the ears of 
 those who were watching on the cliffs, they were distinct 
 enough to reach their hearts, and to curdle them. 
 
 " Let us to the boats !" exclaimed Warwick, stepping for- 
 ward. 
 
 " Stop ! young man," said the publican, laymg his heavy 
 hand on the youth's shoulder. " You rush to your own de- 
 struction without a chance of helping them. Our boats would 
 not live a minute in such a surf. It is no ways likely that the 
 ship will go to pieces at once, if she has struck ; and the 
 water is every moment getting more calm. See, she is still 
 erect !" 
 
 He pointed with his finger to the vessel now again visible, 
 at less than a quarter of a mile from the shore ; still erect, as 
 he said, but beating heavily against the rocks, and staggering 
 beneath the force of the waves, which at every swell broke 
 over her. Few persons were now to be seen on her decks. 
 They had been swept overboard, or had fled for security below. 
 
 How terrible under such circumstances is suspense ! For 
 hours, a period almost interminable, it must have seemed to 
 those on the stranded ship, there was little change in the pos- 
 ture of affairs. The party on shore watched and waited, not 
 wholly without hope, while the other wailed, and wept, and 
 prayed in almost utter despair. The friendly moon, mean- 
 while, having escaped from the flying masses of clouds in the 
 west, looked out with her calm, encouraging face over the 
 frightful scene. It was quite evident that the sea was fast 
 becoming composed. The publican congratulated his associ- 
 
40 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 ates on this favorable phase in the desperate circum^ances 
 of the night ; but the words were scarcely out of his mouth 
 before it became equally evident that the ship was sinking. 
 Those who had sought safety in the cabins now rushed again 
 on deck. Shrieks, heart-rending cries for help, filled the air ; 
 and the wildest confusion reigned in the ill-starred vessel. 
 One small portion alone of the deck seemed still under any 
 command ; and from this, very soon, a boat was let down, 
 filled with human beings. Contrary to the expectation of 
 those who were watching from the cliffs, it was safely launched, 
 and the moment it touched the water was fortunately borne by 
 a swell clear of all contact with the ship. Both the wind and 
 the waves conspired to drive it rapidly onward in the direction 
 of the shore ; but as is almost unavoidable in periods of such 
 disaster, the little craft was quite overloaded, even for a smooth 
 sea. Under present circumstances, its living to reach land 
 could be considered little short of a miracle. 
 
 The publican and his companions watched the experiment 
 with great interest ; and familiar as they were with the horrors 
 of the sea, when they perceived that several females were on 
 board the little boat, which in its sturdy efforts to sustain its 
 precious freight, seemed breasting the billows like a thing of 
 life, they could no longer restrain their enthusiasm. They 
 ^ rushed below in a body to the beach, and into the water to 
 their waists, that they might be in a position, if possible, to aid 
 in the rescue. 
 
 " She stands it well," said the landlord, " and God send 
 that she reach the shore in safety, and that we may yet have 
 a happy finish to this rough night." 
 
 " Amen !" ejaculated his companions, urging themselves 
 still farther into the brine. 
 
 Warwick, in his dismay, was speechless. At one moment 
 the little craft would be seen riding buoyant on the summit of 
 a wave, and the next she would be lost to sight in the trouglj 
 
THE LADY VIOLA, 41 
 
 of the ocean. These last, to the young soldier, were periods 
 of fearful alarm. 
 
 " Good God !" exclaimed the publican, in a voice betoken- 
 ing the utmost horror, as the boat remained a little longer than 
 usual hidden from view, " it is all over with them, I think." 
 
 " No, no," quickly returned Warwick, finding his voice in 
 the excitement of hope, as his watchful eye for an instant 
 caught a glimpse of the missing object, " she still rides. 
 Courage ! courage !" he shouted at the top of his voice ; and 
 the cry was taken up and helped on by the utmost stretch of 
 sound which the lungs of fifty hardy wreckers could compass. 
 
 It was heard ; and a slow, long " Hoa, thanks !" came over 
 the water in reply, and in a voice betokening any thing bu( 
 despair. 
 
 Indeed, the boat stood the rough sea to a miracle, and ere 
 long she had made so much headway that those on board of 
 her were pretty distinctly visible. She seemed under the 
 guidance of a master spirit, a tall, powerful man, who, as they 
 neared the shore, stood erect in the stern and coolly governed 
 her movements. Of him the hardy coast-men expressed their 
 admiration in unmeasured terms. 
 
 But few rods now intervened between the struggling craft 
 and the shore, and Warwick and his companions were already 
 exulting in her safety, when, as it seemed, she slightly 
 touched a concealed rock which turned her from her course 
 The tall stranger applied his strength and skill to right her^ 
 but helm and oar proved powerless against the force of the 
 swell which struck and overwhelmed her. She filled, and 
 sunk instantly. 
 
 Warwick plunged into the foaming brine, and was followed 
 by the publican and the boldest of his men. They pushed 
 forward vigorously, and soon were m the midst of the strug- 
 gling wretches. Warwick found himself in contact with 
 the tall helmsman who had attracted his attention, and who, 
 
42 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 bearing a female on his shoulder, struck back the waves with 
 his giant limbs as he urged his way toward land. With a 
 single glance — though thg meeting was at night in the sea — 
 which seemed to say that he recognized a kindred spirit in 
 the young soldier, he placed the lady in his arms, and himself 
 turned back again to the rescue of others. 
 
 A few moments with Warwick, moments of singular inter 
 est in the object he held to his bosom, sufficed to bear her to 
 a place of safety, and he also was again breasting the waves 
 In the first surge that swept over him he came in severe col- 
 lision with the body of a man, who had already ceased strug- 
 gling and had yielded himself and the aspirations of this 
 world at length quietly into the hands of his fate. Warwick 
 dragged him ashore, and as he bore him up the beach out of 
 the reach of the waves, he could not but remark, by tljie light 
 of the beacon still blazing aloft on the rocks, the extreme 
 richness of his dress and the foreign aspect of every thing 
 about him. His fingers were circled with heavy rings, and a 
 chain of great value and a glittering star flashed on his 
 breast. The young soldier placed him in the care of those on 
 shore, and as he was giving some hasty directions for his re- 
 covery, had the satisfaction to perceive that animation was 
 already returning. Attracted by a voice of low but deep dis- 
 tress, he discovered but few paces away, supported by her 
 women as she stood dripping on the sand, the lady whom he 
 had previously aided to rescue. In the haste and confusion 
 of the moment he had merely remarked that she was young 
 and fair ; now, touched by her sorrow, he took her by the 
 hand and addressed her a few inspiring words of comfort and 
 of hope. She replied by sobs and a soft and liquid utterance 
 in a foreign tongue, which though quite capable of conveying 
 a distinct impression to the mind, as a combination of words, 
 was entirely unintelligible to her listener. The American did 
 not fail to perceive, however, as the light flashed down from 
 
THE LADY VIOLA. 43 
 
 the rocks, that her eyes were large and lustrolis, and her com- 
 plexion, though pallid with fright, pure as the snows of his 
 own north. He had hardly completed these slight observa- 
 tions, when, with an exclamation of delight, the fair stranger 
 sprung past him and threw herself into the arms of an elderly 
 gentleman, who, also dripping from the brine, now approached, 
 supported, as he slowly toiled up the beach, by the athletic 
 helmsman. 
 
 Meanwhile the landlord and his men had done good service. 
 Of those who were in the boat when she capsized, some had 
 saved themselves by their skill as swimmers, others had been 
 thrown ashore by the waves, but more had been plucked from 
 graves in the yawning sea by the bravery of those who had^ 
 so fearlessly gone to their resQiue, until it appeared probable 
 from a hasty count and comparison of recollection that the 
 whole number were safely assembled on the beach. There- 
 upon the party, sad but rejoicing, though several of them 
 were in an extremely exhausted condition, dragged their 
 way, by the aid of the hardy wreckers, up the cliffs to the 
 hotel. 
 
 The night by this time was well advanced. During the 
 more pressing peril of the boat the ship was lost sight of, and 
 Tiow, as the first dawn of morning came in from the east, cov- 
 ering all things with a gossamer mantle of gray, she was dis- 
 covered lodged and stationary on the rocks. Her helpless 
 crew by frequent cries for succor gave evidence of their con- 
 tinued preservation ; but as the danger of navigating the inter- 
 mediate stretch of sea with the small shore-craft was hourly 
 becoming less, it was nearly certain that their safety was best 
 consulted by a still farther delay. In the course of a few 
 hours, however, they were relieved from their perilous situa- 
 tion, and a happy termination was thus given to a night of 
 fearful terror, not a life throughout the whole affair having 
 been lost. 
 
44 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 The vessel proved to be a Spanish galleon bound for New 
 York. Her first officer, Captain Pandriel, was a small, dark 
 personage, with enormous whiskers and mustaches, and on 
 the whole a man of no very prepossessing appearance ; but 
 the one to whom most deference was paid was the elderly- 
 gentleman already noticed, who to a very decided military 
 air and figure, added an agreeable and commanding presence. 
 As soon as the safety of all was ascertained, this gentleman, 
 accompanied by the courageous helmsman, sought out our hero, 
 and courteously taking him by the hand, addressed him in 
 very good English some words of thanks, in which it was quite 
 evident, however, that aristocratic formality, deeply awakened 
 emotion, and a want of familiarity with the language, together, 
 formed a serious impediment in the way of his undertaking. 
 
 " I am informed, gentle sir," said he, " by my friend John-J 
 son here, that I am indebted to you for the preservation of the 
 life of my daughter, the Lady Viola Torrillo, from the horrors 
 of our late shipwreck, the particulars of which I beg you to 
 excuse me if I do not now recall ; and also for the rescue, at 
 the same time, from the waves, in an insensible condition, of 
 my much esteemed friend, Don Ferdinand de Cassino. In 
 what way, I pray you, brave sir, can we most satisfactorily to 
 you express our gratitude, if we can not hope in any degree 
 to cancel the weighty obligations under which we rest? 
 Money, sir, is dross by the side of life ;" and as' he said this 
 he took a purse from the hand of Johnson. 
 
 But the Spaniard did not offer to present it. He readily 
 understood the feeling of wounded pride which at once man- 
 tled the face of the young American, who hastened to express 
 in return the ample satisfaction he had received for the aid he 
 had been able to render in the acts themselves, and to assure 
 Don Manuel Torrillo that for the safely of his daughter, at 
 least, his principal thanks were due to his companion, the 
 individual by his side. 
 
THE LADY riOLA. 43 
 
 " Ah !" said Don Manuel, with a brightening and tearful 
 eye, " I have been so often indebted to your countryman, Mr. 
 Michael Johnson, for favors both great and small, that I no 
 longer find it convenient on every separate occasion to express 
 my emotions or my thanks. But this once I may be allowed 
 to do so, for last night me, also, did he force back to life, 
 dragging me even out of the wide-open jaws of death itself." 
 
 Thus saying he threw ^is arms around the plain, weather- 
 beaten man before him, and pressed him warmly to his breast. 
 A few moments having been given to this natural outbreak of 
 feeling, the Spaniard again took Warwick's hand, and silently 
 placing on his finger a valuable gem, he led him into the 
 presence of his daughter. 
 
 The Lady Viola was a pale, dark-haired girl. She was 
 very pale and languid in her appearance, though both the 
 color and the lassitude might have been much heightened by 
 the sufferings she had so lately undergone. She did not at- 
 tempt to express directly what she, nevertheless, very evi- 
 dently felt, but contented herself with a modest utterance of 
 her thankfulness in Spanish, which her father rendered with 
 a mixture of pride and parental satisfaction to the young 
 American. The interview was short ; but Warwick as he re- 
 tired was inly sensible, though he did not stop to analyze the 
 feeling, that the large liquid eyes of the daughter of Spain, as 
 they rested on him, had sent their subtile influences through 
 him, and stirred electrical currents within which had never 
 been awakened before. 
 
 Don Ferdinand de Cassino, on finding himself face to face 
 with the man who had saved his life, poured out his thanks 
 with a fluency of rhetoric which would admit of no stay. He 
 hung a purse of gold on the arm of his overwhelmed bene- 
 factor, and insisted on his retaining it, until the young Amer- 
 ican driven to the wall, and at length recovering his presence 
 of mind and his tongue, was compelled to take refuge in the 
 
46 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEK 
 
 conscious dignity of his character and position. Elevating 
 his tall and graceful person to the utmost, he politely thanked 
 the Spaniard, but proudly declined to avail himself of his 
 generosity. Don Ferdinand found himself silenced and sur- 
 prised. He was evidently incapable of comprehending the 
 young soldier, but Michael Johnson, who was present, re- 
 garded the transaction with a gratification which he did not 
 attempt to conceal. 
 
THE WSECESBS. A NIGHT-FIBE UPON THE BEEP. 
 
 ' The panther leaped to the front of his lair, 
 And Btood with a foot up and snufifed the air." 
 
 THE inhabitants of that portion of New Jersey at the period 
 of which we write were the progenitors of the later inter- 
 esting dwellers on that coast, and possessed, even at that 
 early day, most of those inestimable qualities as wreckers 
 which their sons have since so admirably exhibited. 
 
 On the day following the night when the galleon was 
 stranded, there was a constant ingathering of the people round 
 about, attracted by the exciting intelligence of a ship ashore, 
 which seemed to have been conveyed inland, and up and 
 down the coast, to every hill and valley, and into every 
 fisherman's hut with a facility truly surprising. By noon a 
 large number had congregated, mostly hale, weather-beaten 
 men, clad in homespun, and of rough and unprepossessing ex- 
 terior, but who, from their habits of exposure and familiarity 
 with the dangers of the coast, were prepared to render effi- 
 cient service in the work now in hand. It had been determ- 
 ined to unload the vessel, as much for the safety of her valu- 
 able cargo, as from the hope that by lightening her she might 
 again be got afloat at some favorable period of high tide, and 
 the work was already bravely under way. With the assist- 
 ance of all these fresh arrivals, each one of whom at once 
 
48 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 turned in without waiting to be solicited, as though the busi- 
 ness of clearing the wreck was but a sort of pastime, by 
 night a large portion of the cargo of the galleon had been re- 
 moved safely to the cliffs, and thence to the outhouses of the 
 hotel, or secured under canvas coverings, which it had been 
 found necessary to erect, not only for this purpose, but also 
 for the accommodation of the sailors, and the very numerous 
 retinue of the two Spanish gentlemen. 
 
 Warwick was well aware of the unenviable reputation of 
 the inhabitants of this coast, and early took occasion to place 
 the Spaniards on their guard. But whatever might be the 
 character of the people, but little it seemed, with a reason- 
 able vigilance, should be apprehended from them, as the forces 
 of the wrecked vessel altogether numbered a hundred and fifty 
 well-armed men : and Don Manuel smiled, and Don Ferdinand 
 laughed aloud with scorn, at the idea of damage to themselves 
 or their goods from the untrained and unarmed rabble among 
 whom they had fallen. Some little pilfering of small articles 
 in the transfer of the goods to their receptacles on shore 
 would occur of course, but this was the utmost, in their 
 opinion, that was to be feared. 
 
 Early in the evening, refreshments from the ship's stores 
 were bountifully distributed among the throng, and all those 
 who had done service were liberally rewarded and dismissed. 
 But they showed no inclination to depart. They loitered 
 around the grounds and among the goods, laughing and crack- 
 ing hard jokes on the Spaniards, all the harder, indeed, from 
 the consciousness that they were not understood. At length 
 a few of them became boisterous, were irritable, and assumed 
 a dissatisfied air, as though the strangers had wronged them. 
 But as the evening wore away they fell off in small parties, 
 and by midnight few, save those who belonged to the establish- 
 ment of the publican, remained. All became quiet. The 
 winds were at rest, the sea was still and smooth, and the ship- 
 
TEE WRECKERS. 49 
 
 wrecked and tired sons of Spain east thus, by a cruel fortune, 
 on the inhospi'able shores of the New World, disposed 
 themselves to sleep. 
 
 At this period there came a cry from the sentinels that the 
 galleon was on fire ; and, the worn-out wretches who had but 
 just relaxed their limbs, and embalmed their senses in the 
 calm of slumber, sprung to their feet again, rushed out upon 
 the night, and turned their dim, bewildered eyes on the ocean. 
 The flames were evidently but just kindled, and by their light 
 the forms of meii were to be seen skulking about on her decks. 
 Captain Pandriel was confounded, for until this moment he 
 had indulged the strongest hopes of saving his gallant ship. 
 He rushed to the cliffs ; and as his men gathered around him 
 he gave full vent to his rage, and called down on the perpe- 
 trators of the dastardly deed the direst imprecations. The 
 sailors echoed his half-coherent ravings, but as the fire made 
 headway, and spread into diflferent parts of the vessel, anger 
 was at last fairly overmastered by grief: they became mute 
 and motionless, like staring statues, save that real tears 
 trickled down their swarthy faces. It was indeed the funeral 
 pile of their dearest, and to some of them of their oldest, 
 friend. 
 
 Don Manuel beheld this rascally proceeding of the Jersey- 
 men with less apparent feeling, but his movements were more 
 effective. He ordered a gun which had been taken from the 
 wreck to be stationed on the cliffs, and soon the shot went 
 rattling among the decks and timbers of the galleon. Not 
 anticipating a salute of this nature, the pirates were taken by 
 surprise. They dropped their plunder and fled for their boats ; 
 but two of them at least were stopped in their retreat. They 
 were seen to fall back on the deck, there to await the approach 
 of the fire themselves had helped to kindle. The boats push- 
 ed off toward a clump of islands lying a little to the south. 
 The gun was again pointed, and this time by Don Manuel 
 
 3 
 
50 UAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 himself ; and as the shot struck, one of them was capsized, 
 and every soul on board went down. The other boats, aided 
 by the increased distance and the darkness, escaped. 
 
 The flames, ma^anwhile, progressed with fearful rapidity, 
 seizing on the pitch and other comb^tibles plentifully at hand, 
 and soon extended throughout the body of the vessel. Then 
 they burst upon the upper decks, and still mounting aloft, 
 leaped from rope to rope and spar to spar, and enveloped the 
 towering masts, until the whole ship to its utmost height was 
 a body of fire. The night was dark and calm ; hardly a 
 breath stirred the heavens ; and the flames arose to their 
 utmost altitude in an unwaving column. The dense, black 
 smoke from the burning pitch piled itself still above, and 
 slowly rolled off" over the ocean. Soon the smaller spars be- 
 gan to fall, and ere long the masts tottered, and one by one 
 plunged over into the sea. Within a very brief period from 
 the time the fire was discovered, the splendid four-decked 
 galleon, which for many years had done good service — had 
 safely borne most princely freights of ingots, silks, and spices 
 in the commerce between Spain and her colonies — lay a 
 smoldering, blackened, and shapeless hulk on the water. 
 
 During this sudden and exciting scene, all those to whom 
 the duty had been assigned of standing sentry over the goods, 
 as well as the others, had rushed to the cliflfs. Nothing, how- 
 ever, was discovered to be wrong with their respective charges 
 until morning ; then, indeed, it was perceived that one of 
 their most valuable depots had been rifled of a large portion 
 of its contents, and thus the entire plot of the jivreckers, 
 which, it must be confessed, had been laid with great shrewd- 
 ness, became apparent. 
 
 On the discovery of the robbery, no one expressed greater 
 surprise and regret than the publican. Indeed, his rage was 
 quite beyond bounds at the occurrence, which had taken place 
 immediately under his nose, and on his own grounds. He 
 
THE WRECKERS. 5l 
 
 mounted his horse, and spent some hours in an endeavor to 
 track the plunderers ; but his efforts failed. The goods were 
 never recovered. 
 
 It may surprise some to know that, within a week after the 
 Spanish party had taken its departure, many of the most valu- 
 able articles they had lost were openly exposed to observation 
 in the house of the landlord himself. But should any one 
 conclude that this worthy individual risked his own life to 
 save these strangers from drowning that he might afterward 
 rob them, he would do him great injustice. The conduct of 
 the publican but illustrates a common principle of every-day 
 affairs. Men help each other one day, and steal from one 
 another the next, according to the impulse of the hour. 
 Whatever way we turn, robbery, legal or illegal — by unjust 
 prices, frauds, or pitfalls of the law — meet us at every hand. 
 Charity and love also abound; but those of us who most 
 strive to do well, fall often and disgracefully before tempta- 
 tion ; while it can not be doubted that the highwayman, should 
 he discover his victim in imminent and unexpected danger at 
 the moment of his assault upon his life, would rescue him 
 even at the peril of his own. Thus are weakness and strength, 
 selfishness and generosity, the angel and the devil, com- 
 mingled in mankind. 
 
 In the present condition of society, notwithstanding the 
 advancement of the last half century, with which we flatter 
 and console ourselves, good and evil are not yet assorted ; 
 neither have we yet arrived at a point where, as a race, we 
 perceive with any clear discrimination the difference between 
 these two conflicting elements. But a better day is dawning ; 
 the morning of it is even now flooding us with its golden light, 
 in which the past and the future, and all needed principles and 
 things, will appear clearly to our vision ; when mankind will 
 acknowledge a common brotherhood ; and man will learn what 
 love for his neighbor means. The next ten years seem likely 
 
62 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 to do more to illuminate and improve the world than the pre- 
 ceding decade of centuries. 
 
 Warned by the destruction of their vessel and the plunder 
 of their property, the Spaniards determined to lose no time in 
 effecting their escape from the neighborhood of men so much 
 more cruel than the sea. Don Manuel and his daughter, 
 therefore, at once accompanied Charles and Mistress War- 
 virick to New York, where they were very shortly joined by 
 the rest of the Spanish party, together with such effects and 
 merchandise from the rich lading of the galleon as were 
 finally saved from the rapacity of the Barnegat oystermen. 
 
^ltx (Bx^\t 
 
 THE 3PAKIARDS IN NEW YORK. 
 " Ye men of Spain, hurrah I" 
 
 AS gentlemen of rank, who had suffered by stress at sea, 
 and been cast perforce on the hospitality of the Colonies, 
 the noble Spaniards were cordially received at JS^ew York. 
 Especially when it was whispered about, as by some means 
 soon happened, that Don Manuel Torriilo was an officer of 
 considerable renown, and stood high in the esteem and con* 
 fidence of the Spanish crown, was he treated with singular 
 tokens of respect. Even the Governor of the Colony of New 
 York and the city functionaries took every occasion to court 
 his acquaintance, and to express their great consideration for 
 him in a marked and public manner. 
 
 Indeed, simply as a man, the noble Spaniard furnished in 
 his person a very favorable specimen of the race. Tall and 
 well set, his bust and limbs were full, and fashioned after the 
 most classic model. His complexion, to be sure, was south- 
 ern, but it was pure, and relieved by his still darker hair ; 
 while his large black eyes and fine, but not too heavy, upper 
 head, formed a fitting base and accompaniment to the frank 
 and benevolent expression of his countenance. This ad- 
 vantageous personal appearance was well sustained by his 
 deportment. In his intercourse with the citizens of New 
 York, Don Manuel was dignified but cordial, and exhibited, in 
 a very favorable manner, the stores of a well-balanced and 
 cultivated mind. 
 
54 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN, 
 
 Such, however, in most respects, was not his friend and 
 companion. Don Ferdinand de Cassino was still a young 
 man, having as yet passed his majority but by a very few 
 years. He was smaller in stature and thinner in person than 
 his senior, and though certainly well educated, and not lacking 
 in intelligence, from some not very easily defined cause, he 
 was unpleasing. At first glance it was apparent that frills and 
 mustaches were to him matters of very grave concern, and 
 yet that frills and mustaches were nothing, only as connected 
 with Don Ferdinand himself. But if haughty and selfish, he 
 was, nevertheless, strictly a gentleman, according to the 
 established code of the world, and as a foreign nobleman and 
 the friend of Don Manuel he was everywhere well received 
 and often courted ; while there were those, and the number 
 was not small, who regarded the obvious blemishes in his 
 character as so many enviable certificates of the chevalier's 
 high breeding. 
 
 • But aside from the consideration of rank and personal en- 
 dowments, there was much of novelty to the New Yorkers in 
 having among them a brace of undoubted Spanish grandees ; 
 and these, not to do discredit to their name and country, had 
 taken an elegant mansion in a fashionable part of the city, and 
 fitted it up with great splendor, where they were surrounded 
 by their bustling menials, whose numbers and servile devotion 
 to their superiors gave to the establishment an appearance of 
 state to which the colonists in their simplicity were little ac- 
 customed, and some, it may be, were attracted in their atten- 
 tions by the beauty and gentle bearing of the child-like Lady 
 Viola. 
 
 It will readily be supposed that the intercourse between the 
 Warwicks and the Spanish party was soon established on the 
 most familiar footing. Indeed, as they were thrown together 
 at the moment when the latter first touched the American 
 shore, and together journeyed to New York, so now, although 
 
THE SPAmARDS IN NEW YORK. 65 
 
 occupying separate domestic establishments, they were hardly- 
 more apart. The Lady Viola, during the late distressing oc- 
 currences, had learned to cling to Mistress Warwick with a 
 Bort of filial affection ; while Charles Warwick, if not attached 
 to the young lady's father by a bond precisely similar, found 
 himself, nevertheless, deeply interested in the person and 
 fortunes of that noble gentleman, who cordially and warmly re- 
 ciprocated the sentiment. 
 
 Besides Johnson the American, whose plain common sense 
 never wearied, and who, from some cause, was admitted to an 
 equality in the house of the Spaniards, to which his sphere in 
 life could not be held to entitle him, there were, appertaining 
 to that establishment, a fat, jovial priest, known as Signor 
 Antonio, and a grave follower of Esculapius, called Doctor 
 Oquetos, both of whom were much addicted to learned and 
 instructive conversation. 
 
 But, notwithstanding the various attractions of the male 
 coterie daily to be found at the brilliant reception-rooms of 
 these foreign gentlemen, increased, as they often were, by the 
 addition of half the learning and logic of the town, Charles 
 Warwick, with alarming frequency, became forgetful of them 
 all, and on coming to himself would discover that he was by 
 the side of the Lady Viola, and that he had been listening to 
 her soft guitar, and softer voice and broken English, and look- 
 ing, all too deeply, into her sweet eyes. He would color and 
 correct his error, but only to repeat it. Possessed, as he was, 
 of an inquiring mind, it will create no surprise, under the cir- 
 cumstances of the case, that this j^oung and ardent American 
 ere long was seized with a laudable ambition to become 
 acquainted with the Spanish language, as well as endowed 
 with a wonderful faculty in expounding the mysteries of his 
 own tongue. What could Viola do but become his instructress 
 and pupil? 
 
 It was nowthaf the tables became strewn with the mingled 
 
56 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED ^N. 
 
 literature and classics of the two nations ; grammars, lexicons, 
 and other rudimentary books, with Shakespeare and Lopez, 
 Milton and Cervantes. Nor were Don Manuel and Ferdinand 
 uninterested spectators of the wondrous labors which suc- 
 ceeded. The former had long been familiar with Englishmen 
 and English literature, and admired both, and made no secret 
 of his admiration. Don Ferdinand, on the contrary, though 
 ever ready to pay lavish court to British rank and power, in 
 his heart reviled Englishmen and all their works. With him 
 there was no country but Spain, no people but the Spanish, 
 and no language fit for^the poet, the historian, the orator, or 
 the gentleman, but the Castilian. And yet, from some unex- 
 plained motive, he very shortly joined Warwick and the Lady 
 Yiola in their studies. No lesson was conned which did not 
 witness the presence of the chevalier, augmenting the party 
 into a trio, without particularly enhancing the interest, at least 
 to the other male member of the class. Nor was the har- 
 mony of the sittings increased by the addition. Before, all 
 flowed smoothly as a summer sea ; now, critical questions 
 were raised at every turn, and the Spaniard seemed bent on 
 measuring his scholarship and powers with those of the young 
 American. From these conflicts he did not always escape 
 unscathed. Though well schooled, his impetuosity led him 
 sometimes to take his ground without properly measuring his 
 distances, and a disastrous overthrow was the result. In the 
 end he was taught a valuable lesson of prudence, and com- 
 pelled to respect the rival whom, had it not been for the deep 
 obligation under which he lay to him, he would have openly 
 affected to despise. . ^ 
 
C^ajjtu "giut 
 
 WARWICK FINDING HIMSELF IN LOVE, SEEKS BELIEF IN POETBY. 
 
 ' We call thee hither, entrancing power I 
 Spirit of love I spii-it of blUs 1" 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING the devotion of Warwick to the 
 ■^^ study of the Spanish, and of the Lady Viola and Don 
 Ferdinand to the English, these pursuits were not suffered to 
 interfere with the free enjoyment of the good society of the 
 city. The presence of the strangers had infused new spirit, 
 into the elite of the town ; and calls and compliments, parties 
 and balls, intermixed with rides to Brooklyn and Hoboken, or 
 other rural sites or points of interest, followed each other in a 
 continuous round. 
 
 Weeks thus passed away ; and however much Warwick 
 was fascinated with the life he led, he very shortly discovered 
 that it, too, had its drawbacks. He perceived that there was 
 indeed some serious cause of disturbance between himself and 
 Don Ferdinand de Cassino. As yet he had not stopped to 
 inquire what it was. For himself, he was quite certain that, 
 aside from dragging that gentleman from the surf somewhat 
 roughly, he had always treated him with the utmost courtesy and 
 respect ; indeed, he had been jealous of himself in that par- 
 ticular, and had even subjected his inner man to a severe scru- 
 tiny, in order to make sure that he had given the chevalier full 
 credit for all the good qualities he possessed ; and though con- 
 stantly annoyed by Ferdinand's presence at his elbow, when- 
 
58 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEK 
 
 ever he had particular reasons for wishing him elsewhere, and 
 especially when he was in conversation with Viola, he was 
 certain he had borne it all with exemplary patience, and had_ 
 exhibited in return no word or look of displeasure. But Don 
 Ferdinand was not so well schooled. He soon became irri- 
 table, then captious, and 'finally morose. It was easy to per- 
 ceive that a positive rupture was impending. 
 
 A little reflection was sufficient to expose to Warwick the 
 secret of the Spaniard's conduct. He discovered that he him- 
 self, however well he might succeed in concealing it, was par- 
 ticularly nettled whenever that gentleman came between him 
 and the Lady Viola ; and furthermore, that an exchange of 
 position produced a similar effect on Don Ferdinand, which 
 that individual lacked either the tact or the inclination to dis- 
 guise. From this discovery, or, to speak mathematically, 
 from these premises, the corollary unavoidably followed, that, 
 for some reason, the society of the fair Andalusian was very 
 agreeable to both of them. As for himself, he had found from 
 sad experience that his lessons were neglected, unless his ex- 
 cellent instructress was by his side to prompt him on to ef- 
 fort ; that in her absence he forgot his books, and sat and 
 mused, and drew pictures in the air, of what he hardly knew, 
 or cared, if she were there. It was thus that he could restore 
 her to his presence ; and without her he felt lost, adrift on the 
 sea of life, without a helm or anchor. All young men, especi- 
 ally imaginative young men, until disappointment clips the 
 wings of hope, dream dreams of glorious fabric. To them the 
 future is a realm of light, and love, and beauty. No landscape 
 greets the sight but what has flowers, and running streams, 
 and birds, and skies without a cloud. A gentle rain may fall 
 to wet the grass, and scatter pearls upon the violets and dia- 
 monds on the leaves ; but storms do never come. 
 
 Charles Warwick was a dreamer of this sort, and now more 
 than ever ; and as he dreamed, each scene that passed before 
 
LOVE AND POETRY. 59 
 
 his view had one peculiar feature. No garden walk, no hill, 
 no tangled wood, no future home for him, no point of time 
 from youth to helpless age, moved over the mental screen, 
 and he a part, but Viola, too, was there. He looked yet on to 
 spheres of better hope, where angel forms float in the blue 
 serene or walk unfading fields : she .still was there, an angel 
 by his side, a part of his own life, to love, to cheer — her hand 
 in his, her soft eyes blessing him. 
 
 But as he dreamed and quaffed unconsciously draughts of 
 bewitching sweetness, and spent his days in purple groves 
 fanned by the perfumed air, where love made all the music, 
 and changed all shapes to forms of joy and beauty, to others 
 he often seemed strange and sad. Mistress Warwick was 
 alarmed, until she guessed the cause. 
 
 As they arose from the breakfast-table one morning, at which 
 the young gentleman had already exhibited some startling 
 signs of aberration of intellect, Mistress Warwick inquired if 
 they should not ride/ 
 
 " I think she would," replied he, gazing into ^racancy. " The- 
 day bids fair." 
 
 " We will call, then, and take her up," added the lady smil- 
 ing. " Which way shall we drive ?" 
 
 " Any way you like, mother ; I am not particular — the moon 
 is up, the silver stars are set." 
 
 " Did you stop at the Post Office when you were out, my 
 dear ?" said the lady. 
 
 " No, mother," he replied ; " what would you like ? a duck, 
 or a nice, fish, for dinner ?" 
 
 " Why, Charles !" exclaimed the good matron, " how ver} - 
 absent you are ! You quite alarm me." 
 
 "Why, what did I say, and what did you inquire about, 
 mother ?" 
 
 " I asked about the Post Office, my son, and not about the 
 market at all." 
 
60 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEK 
 
 " Oh, ah !" stammered Charles. ' My wits must have been 
 wool-gathering indeed. This studying Spanish, since I am 
 out of the habit of study, is confusing me, I think." 
 
 " You must not study so hard, my son," said the lady kind- 
 ly. " But are you quite certain that it is the language V and 
 she looked sharply into his eyes. " Is it not rather the Span- 
 ish lady, my dear ?" 
 
 Warwick blushed like a girl. 
 
 " Do not feel abashed, my son," continued this ancient 
 maiden, in a voice hardly above a whisper, and which barely 
 escaped being tremulous, but at the same time was peculiarly 
 distinct ; " the feeling is a holy one." 
 
 " You have experienced it, then, mother ?" 
 
 " Who that had a heart ever escaped ?" said the lady quickly, 
 and with increasing agitation. " It is the law of our being ; 
 but it runs not always smoothly." She paused for a moment, 
 and then added : " Viola is worthy, but have a care for your- 
 self, Charles. I see trouble in the distance ; and dearly as 
 I love you, I do not bid you shun it. Be wary of Don Fer- 
 dinand. Be prudent ; but with manliness and strength, and 
 God's blessing, go on, and win the prize you covet." 
 
 The aged matron closed with the apparent inspiration of a 
 pythoness, and sinking into a chair covered her face with her 
 hands. Remarkable for little else save the strength of her 
 affections, it had been many years since she had exhibited an 
 energy at all comparable to this. Warwick was surprised, and 
 pleased, and grieved. He perceived that she had scanned his 
 case — the present and the future — with an eye far steadier and 
 clearer "than his own. He was glad to understand his posi- 
 tion, to have the floating visions of his mind reduced to form. 
 He perceived that he had found a confidant and wise adviser 
 where least he had expected it ; but he was grieved to know 
 that one so dear to him, through long, long years of loneliness, 
 had nourished in her breast a fount of hidden sorrow. He 
 
LOVE AND POETRY. 61 
 
 sat down beside her ; and the young man, burdened with his 
 first love, and the gray-haired woman, unbosomed themselves 
 to each other. 
 
 The occasional rudenesses and belligerent glances of Don 
 Ferdinand, latterly becoming more marked and frequent, had 
 not escaped the observation of the Ijady Viola ; on the con- 
 trary, they had become to her a source of evident embarrass- 
 ment. Sometimes, with the familiarity of an old friend, she 
 would playfully check him ; while with great discretion she 
 divided her attention between the two gentlemen, and watch- 
 fully, but delicately, sought to palliate whatever unpleasant 
 circumstances, at any time, might arise. Nothing else, save 
 this irritability on the part of the Spaniard, had ever come to 
 the knowledge of Warwick to lead him to suppose that that 
 mdividual made any pretensions affecting in any manner the 
 fortunes of the Lady Viola. True, he knew little about the 
 private affairs of his foreign friends ; and whatever he did 
 know, they themselves had informed him. He had thus been 
 told that Don Ferdinand de Cassino accompanied Don Manuel 
 as his friend ; and he found himself little inclined to suppose 
 any thing further. 
 
 If any one has imagined for a moment, because our hero 
 has shown himself apt and prudent, generous and brave ; a 
 youth guided in his ways by a conscious sense of integrity 
 and right, that he was therefore above the common weaknesses 
 of human nature, he has much mistaken him. We have con- 
 fessed that in the short period of a few weeks he became 
 nearly demented with love, and hardly knew it, until the probe 
 of his experienced maiden-mother laid his bosom bare that he 
 might see it. He had still another weakness of a graver cast. 
 He was occasionally a devotee of the muses. He found feel- 
 ings within himself crying aloud for utterance, and he gave 
 them voice, as the unseen monitor directed. 
 
 Poetry has been called the language of passion. It is, more 
 
62 CAMP FIEES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 properly, the ideal of the real, and the real of the ideal, or em.' 
 hodiment of the spiritual. It clothes the material world with 
 new and undiscovered beauty, lifting common things up into 
 sunshine and loveliness. It endows the immaterial, the in- 
 tangible, with form and substance, that we may catch and hold 
 it. Its office is to raise our thoughts and aspirations, to clear 
 away the grossnesses which surround us, and set high stand- 
 ards up at which we all may aim. 
 
 ^ut the world adjudges poetry a weakness ; and in accord- 
 ance with the sentiment, we are forced to say that Charles 
 Warwick being in a mood favorable For the exhibition of his 
 weak points, to his great subsequent perplexity and discom- 
 fort fell into it. On the morning of the day following his 
 eclair cissement with his mother, on calling at the mansion of 
 his friends, h^ unexpectedly found the Lady Viola alone. She 
 received him with great cordiality, and he noticed with pleas- 
 ure that a certain restraint too frequently observable in Don 
 Ferdinand's presence had now entirely vanished. As he took 
 her hand in his, she smiled, and turned her eloquent eyes in- 
 quiringly into his face. 
 
 It will surprise none of the initiated to know that Warwick 
 found himself at the moment unable to reply to this familiar 
 greeting. He therefore led her silently to a chair ; and hav- 
 ing arranged her dictionary and grammar for use, in his capa- 
 city of instructor, he gave her the following lines to translate 
 into Spanish : 
 
 I love a bright and beaming eye, 
 
 And thine, though ebon as the night, 
 
 Though round the dreamy lashes lie, 
 Are like two gems of light. 
 
 Adown thy neck in raven rings 
 
 The silken tresses wildly play ; » 
 
 While in thy voice the linnet sings 
 
 His loving roundelay. 
 
LOVE AND POETRY. 63 
 
 Thy brow is pure as ocean pearl, 
 
 Thy cheeks are where the roses blow ; 
 
 And 'tween thy red, red lips, sweet girl. 
 Thy teeth are like the snow. 
 
 Thy form is sylph-like as the swan's 
 
 When floating on the silver sea ; 
 Thy step is like the graceful fawn's. 
 
 As gentle and as free. 
 
 Sweet girl of Spain ! Love, living lore. 
 
 In every feature barbs his dart ; 
 The coursing shafts have struck a dove — 
 
 His refuge is thy heart. 
 
 An hour was spent in the exercise of the translation, during 
 which Warwick was troubled with hot and cold flashes alter- 
 nately running over him, and found himself much afflicted with 
 stammering ; while the Lady Viola, as she closed the final 
 stanza rested her head gravely and thoughtfully on her hand. 
 
^ttt fen 
 
 THE BALL AT GOVERNOR CLINTON' 
 
 There was a voice of revelry by night." 
 
 IT was at a period of bland and balmy airs and clear skies 
 that the lady of his Britannic Majesty's chief functionary 
 at New York, issued cards of invitation for a grand gala. 
 This festivity, it was understood, had been planned in special 
 honor of those noble subjects of his Catholic Majesty, the 
 King of Spain, who had been thrown by stress at sea on the 
 hospitalities of the city. It was also equally understood that 
 all the beauty and fashion of the town would be there, and 
 that such display would be made as the city never had wit- 
 nessed, and, probably, never would witness again. Great, 
 therefore, was the anxiety for invitations ; and as the enter- 
 tainment had, in reality, been got up on an extensive scale, 
 few who might be said to have any pretensions to such distin- 
 guished favor were ultimately disappointed ; though Mrs. 
 Pinch, the wife of a wealthy tobacconist, and Mrs. Blond, the 
 lady of a retail fancy dry goods dealer, received their cards, 
 for themselves and daughters, at the eleventh hour, when hope 
 had almost drawn her last sigh, and time for due preparation 
 of dress, had that important particular been neglected so long, 
 was totally out of the question. 
 
 Early in the evening of the momentous day, carriages, 
 mixed with occasional parties on foot, of those who resided 
 near at hand, began to thread the avenues leading to the 
 
TEE BALL AT GOVERNOR OLiyTOJPS. 65 
 
 Government House, within the walls of the Fort, on the site 
 now occupied by the upper portion of the Battery, which was 
 the residence of Governor Clinton. That distinguished per- 
 sonage and his lady, with their domestics, and a long train of 
 servitors engaged for the occasion, were on the alert. What 
 with extra exertions, scolding and storming, very much after 
 the manner of other people, they had at length managed to 
 get the affair arranged quite to their satisfaction ; and by the 
 time their guests began to arrive, calm as a summer morning, 
 they were ready to receive them with smiles and compliments, 
 after the most courtly fashion of the times. 
 
 For that night the Governor's mansion, from top to bottom, 
 was gayly thrown open for the accommodation of his numer- 
 ous guests ; and the decoration of the rooms and grounds, to 
 say the least, was brilliant and imposing. The walls were 
 hung in festoons of evergreens and flowers, only broken by 
 the drapery of gold and silver cloth, of crimson, green, and 
 blue, which shaded the tali windows. Broad mirrors blazed 
 among the fragrant wreaths which twined them, and threw 
 back the light from costly chandeliers, whose many waxen 
 candles, set in the branching arms, would have shone all too 
 brightly for the eye but for the good green boughs and rare 
 transparencies arranged to dim their luster. Massive plate, 
 loaded with refreshments, meats, fruits, and condiments to 
 tempt the palate, spices to heat and ices to cool, were dispos- 
 ed in magnificent profusion ; while rich old wines sparkled 
 in silver goblets, and choice exotic plants bloomed in Bohe- 
 mian vases, and breathing their soft odors through the apart- 
 ments, took captive the senses with their agreeable perfumes. 
 
 Soon the guests, in their richest and gayest costumes, were 
 assembled ; fair-haired girls and smiling matrons, the strip- 
 ling, the soldier in his gaudy trappings', and the sage ; and 
 when music did its oflice to harmonize and enliven the feel- 
 ings, and the eye of beauty had quickened as it will quicken 
 
66 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 even the pulses of age, it was, indeed, a rare and bright as- 
 sembly, speaking alone of the joyousness of life, without a 
 thought of sorrow. W^ile some mingled in the dance, others, 
 m pairs, promenaded the labyrinthine rooms ; others, still, 
 lounged on the sofas, or reclined at their ease within the 
 shadowy recesses of some sylvan and fantastic bower. Here, 
 a party talked good-natured scandal, and made their remarks 
 on those that passed them by ; there, another discussed poli- 
 tics, philosophy, or religion ; and there, a little apart from 
 all the rest, a pair chatted polite and flippant nonsense or 
 whispered of love. 
 
 " Oh ! where are the Spanish grandees, pray ?" said Mrs. 
 Blond to Mrs. Pinch, as she seated herself beside that lady 
 on a velvet sofa ; " I am sure I have seen nothing of them 
 yet." 
 
 " Why, how you talk, Mrs. Blond !" returned the complais- 
 ant Mrs. Pinch. " I supposed every body had seen them be- 
 fore this. I was introduced to them an hour ago. There, 
 look ! there is my Lord Don Manuel, talking with Mrs. Mor- 
 gan ; and yonder is my Lord Don Ferdinand Cossetto, as I 
 think they call him, looking — yes, he's looking, and very 
 sharply, too — at something." 
 
 Mrs. Pinch here changed her position a little, and by the 
 aid of a very long neck, was able to satisfy her curiosity as 
 to the point in doubt ; when she continued : 
 
 " He is looking, Mrs. Blond, at Captain Warwick and the 
 young Lady Torrillo, who are dancing together." 
 
 " Bless my soul !" ejaculated Mrs. Blond. " I wonder if 
 those are tbe Spanish nobility there is so much talk about ! 
 Why, I thought they were black !" 
 
 " Well, they don't lack much of it," returned the good- 
 natured Mrs. Pinch, with a laugh. 
 
 " The gentlemen are rather dark, but the lady, I am sure, 
 is white enough," said Mrs Blond. " T wns very near her a 
 
THS BALL AT GOVERNOR CLINTON'S. 67 
 
 little while ago, and noticed her particularly, though I did not 
 then know who she was." 
 
 " Her white has a little too much of an India-ink shading," 
 said Mrs. Pinch. " She is very pale instead of very white." 
 
 " Not so very pale, neither," said Mrs. Blond ; " now she 
 is warmed up with exercise she has a fine glow on her cheeks. 
 But what a beautiful cap she has on !" 
 
 " It is a sort of half turban, trimmed with orange-flowers 
 and diamonds," said Mrs. Pinch. " That chit of the aristoc- 
 racy of the Old World, Mrs. Blond, is decked out with jewels 
 enough to-night to build and furnish a whole block of houses." 
 
 " Her eyes are her best jewels," said a gentleman, in a low 
 tone, very near Mrs. Pinch ; and that lady, turning, recognized 
 in the speaker one who belonged to the ton of the New World, 
 and who, she perceived, with a little party of fashionables, 
 was sauntering past, and, doubtless, had overheard her last re- 
 mark to Mrs. Blond. Presuming that they were* occupied 
 with the same subject of conversation, Mrs. Pinch, having an 
 inquiring mind, took Mrs. Blond by the arm and followed after 
 them, 
 
 When the two ladies arrived within hearing distance, it 
 appeared that the gentleman whom Mrs. Pinch had recognized 
 was speaking. 
 
 " Nonsense ! nonsense !" said* he. " Let us have no com- 
 mon-place strictures here, and on such a subject. I am quite 
 in love with this fair lily of Andalusia, and am free to confess 
 it. Her manner is simplicity itself ; and the Oriental cut of 
 her dress — though no connoisseur in female Jixables — is to me, 
 I acknowledge, a fascinating novelty. You must certainly 
 ladies, try to catch it and bring it into fashion in our good city, 
 if you would hereafter hope to make any impression on our 
 side of the house. What say you, Amelia ?" 
 
 " Oh, if you lords of creation desire it, we have nothing to 
 do but to submit," answered Amelia Clinton, a fair daughter 
 
68 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 of the Governor, with bright auburn hair. " Here, Mr. 
 Gates," she playfully continued, in an endeavor to cover the 
 very slight tone of vexation which had marked her previous 
 words ; " this handkerchief would make a turban 'fit for an 
 Ottoman princess, and you shall be tire-woman and bind it on 
 my head. Come, now, let us see if you really have any taste 
 in such matters." 
 
 " Excellent ! excellent !" said Mr. Gates ; and he proceed- 
 ed to arrange the embroidered gossamer. " But where are 
 the black curls that should dance beneath it, Amelia ?" 
 
 The young lady's heart was now full. 
 
 " Are not auburn as pretty ?" she whispered, while a tear 
 in spite of her sprung to her eye. 
 
 " True, love," replied Mr. Gates, in the same low tone, 
 brought suddenly to his senses on perceiving the pain he had 
 inflicted. " You must forgive me ; I only admire the one, 
 while I love the other." 
 
 " And who can help admiring ?" said Sir George Carlton, 
 catching a single word of Mr. Gates' sentence. " Such fault- 
 less symmetry ; such eyes ; such lips !" 
 
 " You rogue ' We have found you out," said Miss Sarah 
 Grant, quickly, who was hanging on Sir George's arm. 
 " You are the author of the lines in the " New York Journal !" 
 Ha ! iia ! You need not deny it." 
 
 " What lines ?" eagerly inquired both gentlemen at once. 
 
 " The lines addressed to the Lady Viola Torrillo, to be 
 sure," replied Miss Grant, " Avhich have made so much con- 
 versation in town to-day. 
 
 " I am always behind the times," said Sir George, with an air 
 of real or pretended vexation. " I have not seen the " Journal" 
 of to-day, neither have I heard any thing about the sublime 
 affair you mention. The rascally newsboy missed me this 
 morning, as usual. If Zenger don't reform his scamps, I will 
 reform my name from his list ; and that shall be my business 
 
Tim BALL AT GOVERNOR CLINTOIPS. 69 
 
 for to-morrow, if there is enough left of me to crawl to Stone 
 Street after the exhausting felicity of to-night." 
 
 " I must correct your mistake, Sir George," said Mr. Gates, 
 " as I noticed the " Journal" of to-day on your table this morn- 
 ing when I called at your rooms." 
 
 " How happens it, then. Gates," said Sir George, with 
 a slight degree of petulance, " that you are as ignorant as my- 
 self in relation to this important subject, which seems to have 
 agitated the town for the last nine hours or more ?" 
 
 " Oh, while with you we were both busy, you know, and I 
 only glanced a moment at your paper. On returning home, 
 I found my spaniel, Ponto, comfortably digesting mine in the 
 yard, where the carrier had thoughtfully deposited it for his 
 accommt)dation. " 
 
 " On the hip, Mr. G^tes, if you please," ejaculated Major 
 Van Quirk, a short, band-box gentleman, with a self-satisfied 
 chuckle. " Your servant was so very polite this morning in 
 your absence as to oblige me with the loan of your paper for 
 half an hour, when I perused the poem in question with much 
 pleasure ; and, indeed," feeling in his pocket, " beg pardon, 
 but I find I have it still, and can accommodate you with a 
 sight of the lines." 
 
 A burst of merriment followed this exposition of Major Van 
 Quirk, which at once restored the good humor of all ; and 
 when it had ceased, that person proceeded to read from the 
 *' New York Journal" of that day the lines we have given at the 
 close of the preceding chapter, which, under the tutorship of 
 Charles Warwick, had furnished not an uninteresting exer- 
 cise in the studies of the Lady Viola Torrillo. 
 
 When Major Van Quirk ceased reading, which duty he 
 performed with a firmer emphasis, perhaps, than exactly be- 
 came the time and place, each opened his mouth to speak. 
 All remarks, however, were cut short, for as the little coterie 
 moved from its posture of attention, each at once became 
 
70 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 aware of a considerable accession to their numbers. Among 
 the arrivals were Mrs. Pinch, Mrs. Blond, and Don Ferdinand 
 de Cassino. 
 
 The Spaniard was eyidently out of humor, and stood biting 
 his lips with vexation, while a very threatening frown ren 
 lered his dark countenance still darker. Having broken ovej 
 the cold and polite exterior which usually marked his de 
 meanor, he requested, with some abruptness, to look at the 
 newspaper. Mr. Gates, who had reclaimed it, politely handed 
 it to him. Don Ferdinand read the song for himself, and 
 meanwhile, a little reflection having restored him to his self- 
 possession, he pronounced it pretty, and inquired in a careless 
 tone of voice if the author was known. 
 
 " They say that Capiain Warwick wrote it," replied the in- 
 telligent Mrs. Pinch. 
 
 Don Ferdinand gave a sudden start, and, with a deeply 
 lowering brow, whirled on his heel to depart, when Mrs. 
 Pinch, presuming on the valuable information she had com- 
 municated, and her acquaintance of an hour's standing, with 
 great dexterity threw herself in before him, brought him to a 
 stand, and introduced to him her friend and companion, Mrs. 
 Blond. 
 
 The chevalier bowed low ; his breeding was at stake ; and 
 smothering his own angry feelings for the time, he entered 
 into conversation. The tart remarks of the well-informed Mrs. 
 Pinch proved to have for him a peculiar charm, and in lively 
 chat the three, to the great exultation of the ladies, prome- 
 naded the rooms. At length Mrs. Blond, in the innocence of 
 her nature, exposed the fact that her husband was a trades- 
 man, when the proud noble, presuming that the rank of the 
 agreeable Mrs. Pinch was no better, unceremoniously shook 
 them off. He could not, however, deprive them of the recol- 
 lection of the honor they had enjoyed during the brief period 
 they had passed in his society. 
 
THE BALL AT OOVERKOB CLINTOIPS. 71 
 
 The night to Charles Warwick was one of absorbing inter- 
 est. The Lady Viola Torrillo was there, full of animation and 
 happiness, and evidently not less so when with him than in 
 the society of others. Though it was certain that she gave 
 him no exclusive attentions, still her demeanor toward- him 
 was of a kind to satisfy him, and though he saw that toward 
 Don Ferdinand she was more solicitously particular, he yet 
 felt there was a difference in his own favor. Each look and 
 smile spoke an intelligible language to him, a language which 
 though it had no tongue was understood by the heart. 
 
 The Lady Viola meanwhile passed among the throng tho 
 admired of all, and as ever the delight of her proud and affec- 
 tionate father. Whether she sat, or walked, or danced, the 
 eye of Don Manuel turned to her as to a magnet and followed 
 her like the eye of a lover. He could not avoid hearing the 
 praises that were lavished upon her, and so, as a compromise 
 with himself, pronounced them the mere unmeaning homage 
 of the lip, while he still permitted his ear to drink them in 
 with pleasure. In truth his child was lovely. Still it is pos- 
 sible, nay, certain, that more perfect faces, according to the 
 established notions of beauty, might have been found in that 
 assembly, and cheeks of a deeper hue may be met with on 
 any sunny day by the roadside. Her beauty was a combi- 
 nation of symmetry, expression, and action. Her form was 
 faultless, and her attitudes and motions full of grace, but 
 wholly unpretending. She had apparently reached that point 
 in the cultivation of manner where the beginning and the end 
 of the circle come together again, and meet in the union of 
 the simplicity of the child with that of the thorough-bred wo- 
 man. If there was any one feature more than another in 
 which resided her power over the hearts of others, it was her 
 eye — a full, liquid orb, which emitted its rays too softly to 
 alarm by its superior brilliancy, and so only fascinated those 
 on whom it fell. It was the window of her mind, where all 
 
72 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEIT. 
 
 her thoughts were playing. It was such an eye as no clime, 
 southern or northern, oft matures, radiant with light and love 
 and soul, and dewy as the morning — an eye, the power of 
 which, though it may not be told, some, alas, have felt. 
 
 But if Viola was fair, she seemed to know it not. Sh 
 moved as though unconscious of the admiring eyes upon her, 
 and glided away from the praises intended for her ear. Is it 
 not the retiring and folded lily that we go out, through the 
 meadow and by the streams, to seek, though all the flowers of 
 the garden are at hand, courting with open smiles our notice 
 and our love % 
 
 Young as was Charles Warwick, and of a temperament to 
 feel the full force of the master passion when aroused — and 
 acknowledging to himself, as he could no longer conceal it, 
 that the little divinity of old, called Love, had beset him ; the 
 object, a creatiire like Viola — it will create no surprise that his 
 feelings became wholly absorbed by the one subject, an'd his 
 love the great question of his life. Sdll he had never spoken 
 it. To him words seemed cold and unmeaning, and the set 
 phrases gallantry would have dictated, worse than mockery. 
 
 Besides, he perceived intuitively, though he had not ac- 
 knowledged it to himself, that there was some mysterious 
 chain of connection between the fair Spaniard and Don Fer- 
 dinand de Cassino which he did not understand, "and which, 
 had he analyzed his feelings, he would have discovered that 
 he feared to know, lest the blissful dream in which he was in- 
 dulging should be dissipated and lost forever. He might have 
 perceived that though the glorious vision was not destined to 
 last, with a coward weakness common to our natures, he was 
 anxious to prolong it. But if he had not told his love, and 
 listened to the soft response, was he not equally certain that 
 the feeling was mutual ? He felt that it was, though no voice 
 had given it utterance ; and as the strains of music breathed 
 around them, and he held her hand in his, which seemed to 
 
THE BALL AT GOVERNOR CLIXTOIPS. 73 
 
 return a gentle pressure ; or, as fatigued with dancing, she 
 leaned confidingly on his arm, and looked into his face and 
 smiled, she seemed so exclusively his own, so much in her 
 natural home, that it were a profanation of the affections to 
 doubt their simple language. 
 
 It was at a moment like this, when no curious eye was on 
 them ; when the touch of her small white hand on his paim 
 thrilled to his heart and brain, and her soft, dreamy eyes, which 
 had just been drinking from his, had fallen to the ground, that 
 Charles Warwick gained courage to speak of his love. The ef- 
 fect on the Lady Viola was electrical and strange. She started 
 from him like the frightened deer from the hunter, while a 
 deadly paleness overspread her face. She besought him, in a 
 few broken words, as she sunk into a seat, to forbear. Alarmed 
 and abashed, the young soldier begged her pardon ; and while 
 he offered her restoratives, strove, in the gentlest manner his 
 confusion would allow, to soothe the agitation he had so unin- 
 tentionally produced. He was but partially successful. For 
 the rest of the evening she was oppressed with a weight on 
 her spirits which she in vain endeavored to shake off; and 
 among the earliest departures, accompinied by her father and 
 Dm Ferdinand, she retired. 
 
K^ttx ^Uiitix. 
 
 NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE BATTERY. CHABAOTERISTIO FASSAOB WITH AW 
 
 EDITOR. 
 
 " Get ye to bed and sleep I 
 'Tia night, and dangers lurk beneath the stars. 
 Wolves are abroad — to bed ! to bed ! and dream. 
 And fight the nightmares rather." 
 
 THE ball was ended. One by one the carriages rolled away 
 over the rattling streets, and left the mansion of the Gov- 
 ernor, so lately the scene of bustle and revelry, silent and lone. 
 Warwick could not retire to rest. Perplexed, his temples 
 throbbing, and his pulses bounding at a fever pace, he sought 
 the open air, passed hurriedly up Broadway for a quarter of 
 a mile ; then turning to the left, he struck the North River, 
 and strolling down its banks by the quays, ere long found him- 
 self again in the vicinity of the Government House, and look- 
 ing out from the shore over the quiet Bay. He bared his fore- 
 head to the cool sea-breeze, rubbed it with his hands, and 
 gazed on the still landscape and the calm moon and sky, in the 
 hope to restore the equilibrium of his system and feelings, 
 which the various excitements of the night had completely 
 unsettled. 
 
 The contemplation of nature will do much toward calming 
 the most troubled mind. It is impossible to look on the grand 
 elements of the universe around us, all in profound repose, 
 without imbibing something of their spirit. The airs that fan 
 us cool the heated blood. The living stars above us look 
 sweetly down, and though set thick as grapes upon the vine^ 
 
A NIOHT AND A DAY ADTENTXTRE. TJJ 
 
 they jostle not each other. The sea has gone to sleep ; the 
 earth is hushed and dreamless, and the Divinity which inspires*' 
 the whole is sepn and felt. It seems to chide and whisper 
 us, as with the voice of one greater than ourselves, to be at 
 peace — and trust. 
 
 Warwick was not disappointed. He felt soothed and in- 
 vigorated by the influence of the scene, and in a better con- 
 dition for reviewing the occurrences of the night, and the cir- 
 cumstances by which he was surrounded. Indeed, he had 
 more than one cause of perplexity. First was the surprising 
 agitation of the Lady Viola when he had ventured to declare his 
 affection for her — a sentimept, on his part, to which she could 
 not well have remained blind up to that hour, and which, he had 
 many reasons to believe, was in reality reciprocal. He feared 
 her conduct was in some way connected with Don Ferdinand; 
 and in any event, it boded no smooth current to the river of 
 his hopes. His future was beset with rocks and falls and 
 quicksands, and his sky above was lowering black with storms. 
 The disturbed and angry countenance of Don Ferdinand, es- 
 pecially in the latter portion of the evening, had not escaped 
 his notice ; and perceiving that that individual's evil eye was 
 often resting on him, he had little doubt but that he himself 
 was the principal object of his disquiet. Again, the appear- 
 ance in a public newspaper of the verses he had addressed to 
 the Lady Viola, to which his attention had been repeatedly' 
 called during the night, and the authorship of them pressed on 
 him with many a knowing laugh, surprised and pained him. 
 How they got there was beyond his conception ; and to his 
 mind there was something extremely indelicate in thus having 
 thrown open to the public gaze the sacred chambers of his 
 heart ; and in this light, he felt, Viola would view it. 
 
 While occupied with these reflections, Warwick had stood 
 with his back resting against a tree. From this posture he 
 was aroused by the sudden onset of a ruffian, who had gained 
 
76 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 his immediate vicinity without attracting his notice, but who 
 now, fortunately, tripping on a stone, missed his aim, and fell 
 prostrate at his feet. Perceiving a weapon glittering in his 
 hand, he seized him by the collar, and aftsr a slight resistance 
 secured him, and handed him over to the care of the watch. 
 He provied to be a foreigner ; and Warwick at the moment 
 deemed him merely some needy adventurer of the night. 
 
 Warned by the occurrence, however, and the lateness of 
 the hour, without further delay he sought his home and couch ; 
 and ere long, in imagination, was again whirling in the dance, 
 while strains of melting music floated round him ; again Vi- 
 ola's hand returned his gentle pressure ; and now more bold, 
 than before, he even dared to clasp her to his bosom ; until at 
 length, tired nature sunk into so deep a repose as to shut out 
 all dreams. 
 
 It was late on the following morning when he arose ; but 
 after the occurrence of that important event, he lost no time 
 in transporting himself- to Stone Street, and into the ojffice of 
 the " New York Journal," then owned and edited by John 
 Zenger, Esq. He found that gentleman in, but not in his 
 usual good humor. Sir George Carlton and Mr. Gates had 
 just left him. Those two individuals had not been able to rid 
 themselves of the impression that somehow or other Mr. Zenger 
 was in fault, that they had failed to peruse his journal of the 
 day before, and accordingly had been giving him a lecture. 
 Perceiving now that Captain Warwick was a little flurried, he 
 put himself on his guard. 
 
 " I have called on you, Mr. Zenger," said Warwick, with 
 assumed composure, " to inquire where you obtained those 
 lines which appeared in your paper of yesterday, relating to a 
 foreign lady now in this city ; and by what authority you pub- 
 lished them ?" 
 
 " Are you the author of the lines. Captain Warwick ?" in- 
 quired Mr. Zenger in return. 
 
A mOET AND A DAY ADYENTURE, 77 
 
 " That matters not." 
 
 " Beg pardon, but I think it matters a good deal. By what 
 authority do you make your demand, pray ?" 
 
 " I claim, of course, a controlling interest in those verses, 
 Mr. Zenger, or I should not have meddled with the subject." 
 
 " That I am to understand, I suppose, as equivalent to an 
 acknowledgment of authorship"?" said Mr. Zenger. 
 
 " As you please." 
 
 " Allow me to say. Captain Warwick, that I was in no re- 
 spect aware of this. The lines came into my possession from 
 an entirely different direction. I could not suppose that you 
 had any connection with them whatever." 
 
 " They were purloined from my possession," said Warwick, 
 •with emphasis. 
 
 Mr. Zenger took a minute for reflection. At length he said - 
 
 " 1 am sorry. Captain Warwick, but I must decline answer 
 ing your inquiries at present." 
 
 " But it is necessary for me to have them answered at 
 once." 
 
 " I must see the other party in interest first." 
 
 " Mr. Zenger," said Warwick, earnestly, " it is my right to 
 have this perplexing occurrence explained to me at once ; and 
 I can not submit to delay." 
 
 " How will you help it ?" said the editor, tartly. 
 
 " You are a scoundrel, sir," returned Warwick, at the same 
 time raising his sheathed sword to inflict on him a blow. 
 
 The spirited and dexterous editor received it harmlessly on 
 a chair ; and intimated that it was time for the interview to 
 close, by directing Captain Warwick's attention to the door. 
 
 Thus the two gentlemen separated ; and it was evident, 
 from the ridiculous notions of tliat day, on the subject of per- 
 sonal honor, in which they shared, thaii the affair could not 
 well rest there. Hitherto their relations had been of the most 
 friendly nature. Now, a contemptible love ditty seemed likely 
 
78 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 to be the hinge on which the life of one or both of them was 
 to be suspended. Hot youth is ever prone to magnify mole- 
 hills into mountains. The best song that was ever written is 
 not worth so much as a drop of blood ; and bullet-holes and 
 sword-cuts have no narcotic power, that they should be ex- 
 pected to assuage the smart of a wounded spirit. 
 
ni^itx itoUlJK 
 
 laOHAEL JOHNSON. LOVE-MAKING IN HIGH LIFE. A PRIKNDLT 'WARNINCf. 
 
 " Michael was his name ; 
 An old man, 6tout of heart, and strong of limb. 
 
 • • * • • 
 
 Hence he bad learned the meaning of all winda. 
 Of blasts of every tone, and oftentimes, 
 When others heeded not, he heard the south 
 lUke subterraneous music." 
 
 ON the same day, even at so late an hour as that m which 
 Charles Warwick and Mr. Zenger were discussing the 
 important subject of difference between them, the mansion of 
 the Spaniards remained quiet, exhibiting none of that stir and 
 bustle usual to the establishment. In fact, the principal per- 
 sonages had not yet risen. Exhausted by the excitements of 
 the previous evening, rather than by the exercise or the late- 
 ness of the hour at which the guests dispersed, they clung to 
 their beds ; and the numerous servants were either following 
 the example of their masters or making a holiday morning 
 of their leisure through the town. At length, near eleven 
 o'clock, Michael Johnson issued forth, yawning, into the 
 street, stretching out his long arms, first in one direction and 
 then in another, as he promenaded bacTc and forth on the pave- 
 ment in front of the house ; not that this veteran was either 
 one of the revelers of the night before or sluggards of the 
 morning ; he had risen early, as was his wont, and had already 
 attended to a long circle of duties within. At last, wearied 
 with the prolonged stillness in doors, he had come out to keep 
 himself awake and stir his limbs. As he walked, each move- 
 ment was apparently made with a prodigious effort; and he 
 
80 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 accompanied his hobbling steps with a sort of tune, half 
 whistled and half sung, to which he seemed in some degree 
 to accommodate his paces. 
 
 Michael Johnson, perhaps, may be regarded as a fair speci- 
 men of the genuine Yankee of his day ; a class of men still 
 in existence, and somewhat known in each of the four quar- 
 ters of the globe ; with such changes as the lapse of a cen- 
 tury in this age of progress must necessarily effect; and 
 whose main characteristics ever have been a homely, but frank 
 and honest bearing, united to great shrewdness, resources in 
 case of need, and energy of action. Nature and their own 
 stern climate have given them hardy frames ; and at the pe- 
 riod of which we speak, though not always educated, tech- 
 nically speaking, they were generally intelligent ; though 
 boasting no extended acquaintance with books or the philos- 
 ophy of the schools, necessity, and an inherent restless inde- 
 pendence of mind, had taught them, until it had become the 
 nature of their race to think and to philosophize. 
 
 Johnson, at this time, by many years had passed the 
 meridian of life, and his person was large and ungainly. Or- 
 dinarily, or rather when there was nothing calling for a ten- 
 sion of his sinews, he was much bent, but was, however, still 
 capable of becoming erect ; and when in that posture he stood 
 six feet and three inches without boots. At first sight, his 
 limbs seemed hung so loosely together as to preclude all idea 
 of sudden or effective motion. But this was illusory. A 
 closer inspection exhibited an unusual volume and prominence 
 of muscle, of such appearance as to convince the observer 
 that bone and flesh alike had been worn to an iron hardness 
 and toughness- by exercise and exposure to the sunshine and 
 storms, the heats and the colds, of different climes. His long, 
 thick hair and heavy eyebrows had, doubtless, been dark, but 
 both were now so msich turned to gray as to render their 
 orimitive color uncertain ; his nose was large a ui prominent; 
 
MICHAEL JOHNSON. 81 
 
 and his countenance, across which deep lines were transverse- 
 ly furrowed, was very sallow, save a small portion of the 
 cheek, from which the original florid hue had not yet entirely 
 faded. As a counterbalance to all these disadvantages — and 
 they were sufficient — were his clear, hazel eyes, which alone, 
 )f all his features, seemed to possess ordinary animation, and 
 which, \vith his whole face, were generally lighted up with 
 ar agreeable smile, of a sad, but kindlier character, than often 
 belongs to a man. 
 
 Such was the usual appearance of Michael Johnson ; at 
 the present moment, however, his brow was somewhat cloud- 
 ed. As he continued to walk backward and forward, he kept 
 his eyes bent on the stones at his feet, as though in perplex- 
 ing thought. At length he ceased singing ; and as he appar- 
 ently brought the subject which engaged his attention to a 
 conclusion, he registered the decision with a half audible 
 utterance. 
 
 " I'll see the boy, Warwick," said he. " Yes, I'll see him.'' 
 
 He stopped walking and looked up, as though about to start 
 on the errand he had indicated, when he perceived a gentle- 
 man approaching, who accosted him as follows : 
 
 " Good-moriiing ! sir. Do you belong to my Lord Don 
 Manuel ?" 
 
 The individual who made this inquiry was a short, dappei 
 sort of person, dressed in the height of fashion, with an 
 abundance of ruffles, rings, and chains, and who had just 
 alighted from a carriage which remained a few paces off in 
 the hands of a servant. Johnson had seen him before ; never- 
 theless, he could not well refrain from examining him with a 
 curious eye, as he replied : 
 
 " I am with his Excellenza at present." 
 
 The gentleman proceeded to extract a very small letter from 
 an elegant pocket-book, and balancing a half-crown upon it, 
 held it out in his hand as he said : 
 
 4* 
 
82 CAMP FIEES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 " Be SO good as to deliver this note to my Lady Viola Tor- 
 rillo." 
 
 " Sartainly, sir," said Johnson, " but keep your money." 
 
 The gentleman bowed and re-pocketed the silver, but 
 showed no disposition to depart. He proceeded to speak of 
 the weather and other indifferent subjects, in order to establish 
 himself on a familiar footing with the individual bejore him, 
 to whom, in his own mind, he proposed to apply a very dex- 
 terous pumping process before he should quit him. At length 
 he remarked : 
 
 "The vessel that his Excellency came in, I think I have 
 heard, was lost ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I trust my Lord was no great sufferer ?" 
 
 " He came near losing his life," returned Johnson. 
 
 " The cargo, I have understood," continued the other, " was 
 a very rich one." 
 
 " Yes, yes, it was a valuable cargo." 
 
 " And a great part of it perished ?" 
 
 " Sartainly," replied the old man. 
 
 The inquisitive gentleman became somewhat restless. 
 
 " My Lord's estates," he proceeded in a sort of desperation 
 to say, " lie principally in Mexico, I am told, instead of Spain ?" 
 
 " His Excellenza is stirring, I see," returned Johnson, with 
 a smile. " Allow me to show you in, that you may put your 
 questions to him in person ?" 
 
 This the individual — who was no other than Major Van 
 Quirk — hurriedly declined, and springing into his carriage, 
 rolled away ; while Johnson, having delivered the note left in 
 his charge, proceeded on foot in an opposite direction. 
 
 Meanwhile, Don Manuel, in his morning-gown and slip- 
 pers, was sitting in his parlor, sipping coffee and skimming 
 over the newspapers, when he was interrupted by the entrance 
 of his daughter. The Lady Viola, to all appearance, had 
 
MICHAEL JOHNSON. 83 
 
 entirely recovered from the fatigues of the party. Her face 
 was radiant with animation, and her eyes beaming with mis- 
 chief, as she approached her father and placed a brace of 
 billet-doux in his'hand, 
 
 Don Manuel instinctively applied the gilded and rose-colored 
 missives to his nose, as the perfumes with which they were 
 loaded seemed to invite ; but being playfully chid by his 
 daughter for the ungallant act, he proceeded to an examination 
 of their contents. 
 
 Both bore the signature of Theophilus Van Quirk. Num- 
 ber one was dated, and had been received, on the day previous, 
 but in the hurry of preparation for the Governor's ball it had 
 not, perhaps, commanded that attention which its merits de- 
 served. It inclosed a printed copy of the verses with which 
 the reader is so well acquainted, and which were declared to 
 contain a brief representation and manifest of the state and 
 condition of the Major's heart. He did not expressly declare 
 himself the author of the lines, but left such an inference in- 
 evitable Number two was a formal offer of marriage, word- 
 ed in the most grandiloquent and approved letter-book style 
 possible. Major Van Quirk spoke of his family as one of 
 .the first in his Majesty's Colony; and managed to mention, 
 quite incidentally, that his elder brother was a member of the 
 Council, and that the Van Quirks and the great Sawmilloway 
 family were closely connected by marriage. He spoke of 
 his intimacy with the Clintons, Carltons, and Gages, and 
 closed his epistle with the apposite remark, that " his person, 
 of course, must speak for itself." 
 
 Don Manuel burst into an immoderate fit of laughter as h. 
 concluded the perusal of these two model letters on love and 
 marriage, in which, if the truth must be told, the Lady Viola 
 most heartily joined. He threatened to have them framed 
 and suspended against the wall, whereat a playful struggle 
 commenced between him and his daughter for the possession 
 
84 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 of the precious documents, in the midst of which Don Fer 
 dinand entered the room. 
 
 The affair was too good to be kept ; and notwithstanding 
 the entreaties of Viola, Don Manuel persisted in showing the 
 missives to Don Ferdinand. His daughter made her escape 
 from the room ; while Cassino perused the letters with an 
 expression of countenance too plainly indicating tiiat he was 
 unable to discover the joke which had produced so much mer- 
 riment. Having finished the reading, with an expression of 
 rage he threw them on the floor and trampled them under 
 foot. At this point, however, his ebullition of passion was cut 
 short by the entrance, at the heel of the servant who came to 
 announce him, of Colonel McSpike, a Scotch gentleman of 
 birth and fortune with whom Don Manuel had contracted an 
 agreeable and familiar acquaintance, and his arrival was 
 shortly followed by that of Sir George Carlton and Mr. 
 Gates, and one or two others, whose entree at the Spanish 
 mansion was of such a footing as to allow of their joining the 
 male coterie which frequently assembled there before dinnej. 
 
 Meanwhile MichaeV Johnson proceeded to the residence of 
 Captain Warwick. He found that individual at home, but 
 evidently in no very equable frame of mind. In fact, he had 
 but recently returned from his interview with Mr. Zenger ; 
 the unpleasant termination of which, and the consequences 
 that might grow out of it, he was still quite too unsophisti- 
 cated to contemplate with composure. He felt vexed with 
 himself; he felt vexed with Mr. Zenger; and with all other 
 persons unknown, who had contributed to bring him into his 
 present dilemma. But particularly was he vexed with him- 
 self; for he suspected that he had been overhasty. He had 
 discovered that a copy of his unfortunate poem, which he had 
 retained in his own pocket, was no longer there ; and it 
 occurred to him that his own carelessness, in part, might be 
 in fault ; that he might have dropped it in the street ; and 
 
MICHAEL JOHNSON. 85 
 
 furthermore, on reftection, the refusal of Mr. Zenger to explain 
 how the lines came into his possession until he could see the 
 other party in interest, did not appear altogether so unreason- 
 able as at first. He still thought that individual in an unus- 
 ually hot temper that morning, but on the whole was much 
 less certain of his own ground than Avhen he parted from 
 him, and felt much less disposed to push him to extrem- 
 ities. 
 
 The thoughts of both Johnson and Warwick being thus 
 occupied with subjects of "unusual gravity, they soon per- 
 ceived that the ease of their previous intercourse was alto- 
 gether wanting. Warwick made a vigorous effort to overcome 
 the obstruction. His esteem for the plain old man was deep 
 and unaffected. It was more like the feeling of a son for his 
 father, than of a youth toward his senior. Their first meet- 
 ing on the Jersey beach, where each had exhibited a cool- 
 ness and courage which could not fail to commend him strongly 
 to the other, was of a nature to break down all mere cer- 
 emony and supposed differences of position between them ; 
 and Warwick had long since come to regard ^Michael Johnson 
 as a friend whose good opinion he coveted, and on whose 
 kindness and judgment, in case of need, he might unhesita- 
 tingly rely. He now accordingly rallied himself, with a 
 hearty desire to entertain his guest in a manner correspond- 
 ing to his opinion of his deserts. 
 
 Johnson perceived and appreciated the effort ; but after a 
 few moments of conversation, feeling that hesitation or cir- 
 cumlocution was not to his taste, he came directly to the sub- 
 ject-matter of his errand. 
 
 " Captain Warwick," said he, " I've a delicate duty to 
 perform. I fear you are in danger ; and lest, after having 
 made up my mind to put you on your guard, I do it to no 
 purpose, I will add, that I've reason to think Don Ferdinand 
 is brewing mischief agin you." 
 
•86 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 Warwick was^ hardly surprised. He inquired, however, as 
 'to the nature of the apprehended danger. 
 
 " Its nater I can not exactly tell," said Johnson ; " but I , 
 should not wonder if you were to be set on in the night." 
 
 "What! Don Ferdinand turn assassin 1" exclaimed War- 
 wick. ' 
 
 " Sartainly," said Johnson ; " it is his nater. But most 
 likely you would have to do with some of his rascals, of whom 
 he has plenty about him." 
 
 This brought the occurrence of the previous night to War- \ 
 wick's mind ; and he related it to the old man. 
 
 "Just the thing!" said Johnson. " That is the Don to a 
 sartainty. You gave the villain into the hands of the watch, j 
 Captain ? Have you appeared agin him ?" 
 
 " No," answered Warwick ; " and had not intended to. I 
 thought perhaps his stomach was in fault, rather than his 
 heart." 
 
 " Well, it is best not to, I guess," said Johnson. " And 
 now, Captain, you see the necessity of being on your gUard. 
 If I were you, I wouldn't venter out much nights, just at 
 present ; and I'd keep clear of by-places in the daytime, too." 
 
 " Am I to skulk, and hide, and run from this proud Span- 
 iard?" said Warwick, warmly, " whom I drew dead out of the 
 sea but a few weeks ago ?" 
 
 " No," said Johnson, mildly ; " but what can you do? My 
 evidence agin Ferdinand is not of a positive nater ; and the 
 rascal you took captive last night would be cut in inches 
 before he'd expose his master. But for the sake of better 
 evidence. Captain, it is not worth while to invite the cut of a 
 dagger ?" 
 
 " No, no, good TVIiehael," said Warwick. " One should 
 neVer needlessly expose himself to danger. He should avoid 
 that with as much care as he should be resolved, regardless 
 of danger, always to perform his duty. It is not expected, I | 
 
MICHAEL jbnNSON. 87 
 
 presume, that I should at all relinquish the society of Don 
 Manuel and his daughter?" 
 
 "On that pint I can't advise," said Johnson. "It must 
 depend on your own feelins. This much I will say, how- 
 ever, the situation of that sweet child, Viola, can hardly be 
 worse than it was before you knew her. She has no love 
 for Ferdinand — she hates him, but he can't see it." 
 
 " In other words, my most excellent friend, if my affection 
 for the young lady, which I freely acknowledge to you, but 
 save her from the persecutions of her Spanish suitor, it will 
 At least do something toward securing her happiness. Then, 
 by Heaven ! if she love me in return, as I believe she does* 
 I will never yield her to any man. She shall be mine, and 
 mine alone !" 
 
 The warmth with which these words were spoken star- 
 tled the old man ; but it did not seem to displease him. He 
 rested his head on his palm for a few moments in silent 
 thought ; then, rising, he took the young soldier kindly by the 
 hand, as he said : 
 
 "If this be your deliberate resolve, my boy, and your 
 nater tells you it is right, then may the great Universal Lover 
 of us all bless you in it! She is one of a thousand, the 
 fairest and best of all the flowers I have seen in my day, 
 save one. An old man's blessing be with you both !" 
 
 Thus saying, while a slight moisture bedewed the soft, sad 
 smile in his eye, Michael Johnson took his departure. 
 
^^ttx %\xxittxi. 
 
 MAJOR VAN quirk's PROSPECTIVE DUEL. 
 
 Pistols and coffee for two 1" 
 
 IT was evening ; and Theophilus Van Quirk, Esq., Major, 
 Attorney-at-Law and Counselor, and Solicitor in Chancery, 
 was alone in his office, which was on a second floor. He was 
 engaged at some little duties which his limited income, and 
 expensive parade whenever he appeared in public, made it 
 advisable that he should perform himself. Shoe-brushes and 
 blacking occupied a chair beside him, where also stood a pair 
 of boots, polished to the very extent of which they were sus- 
 ceptible. He was now employed with a sponge, extracting 
 some spots from the collar of his coat, as the garment was ex- 
 tended on a chair. The room Was small, and somewhat 
 elaborately furnished. On one side there was a book-case 
 with glass doors, within which hung a green curtain that con- 
 cealed all the interior, save a shelf at the bottom where was 
 arranged a tier of law books. On the other stood a table cov- 
 ered with green velvet, on which were very systematically 
 arranged a fanciful glass inkstand, stamps, pens, sundry bun- 
 dles of business papers, as would appear, folded exactly of 
 the same dimensions, and tied with red tape ; half a dozen or 
 more of letters, so disposed as to exhibit their superscriptions ; 
 with various pamphlets and newspapers, American and foreign, 
 carefully labeled and placed in piles against the wall. The 
 remaining portions of the room were set out with a pier-glass, 
 a sofa, and several chairs. Through an inner door, which 
 
MAJOR VAN QUIKK>S PROSPECTIVE DUEL. 89 
 
 stood open, a much smaller room was discernible ; and within, 
 in plain view, was a dressing sland and mirror, with combs, 
 brushes, bottles of c ologne and unguents, for invigorating the 
 complexion and the hair ; and near by a very elegant leathern 
 traveling trunk, and beyond still a bachelor's single bed. 
 
 Theophilus Van Quirk, Esq., as has been remarked, was a 
 man of small stature : his utmost elevation might have been 
 some five feet five. He was square built, and by no means 
 of an unprepossessing exterior : indeed, he prided himself, 
 and not without reason, on his good looks. He had found 
 time among the cares of his profession, which were not al- 
 ways particularly pressing, to devote considerable attention 
 to military matters ; and as the reward of a long period of 
 service with the Colonial Independents, backed by certain in- 
 fluences which he had managed to marshal in his favor, he 
 had won for himself the prefix of Major. In this appellation 
 he especially delighted ; and it was doubtless his military as- 
 sociations which had conferred on him a certain dignity of 
 carriage and action, for which he was not a little remarkable. 
 
 On the present evening. Major Van Quirk was decidedly 
 in good humor ; his countenance was the seat of buoyant hap- 
 piness, evincing a mind satisfied with all the world, and with 
 himself. He occasionally quitted his employment and sur- 
 veyed himself complacently in the glass; elevating his person, 
 and snapping the lids of his really handsome eyes together, 
 as he imbued his features, at pleasure, with wreathed smiles, 
 or frowns of fierce and terrible significance. From this last 
 mood or expression he would again suffer himself to soften 
 down into a condition of bland quiescence, when he would 
 biisy himself for a moment in detecting and immolating the 
 straggling gray hairs, with which Time, he was fain^^o con- 
 vince himself, had prematurely sprinkled his temples. 
 
 At length the Major's ear detected a foot-fall on the stairs. 
 In a moment the coat was on his back ; the blacking and 
 
490 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 brushes vanished into a closet ; and seizing a pen, he spread 
 out a half-finished writing before him, and seated himself at 
 his table. Mr. Gates and Sir George Carlton entered. 
 
 " Good-evening, Major," said the first of these gentlemen ; 
 " we find you always busy." 
 
 " How wags the world, my good fellow, and how thrives 
 the profession ?" said Sir George, before the Major had time 
 to reply to the first salutation. 
 
 " Fairly, fairly," was the reply. " We lawyers lead a busy 
 life of it, truly ; and were we to attempt to give ourselves 
 leisure, the ruin of our clients, you know, might be the conse- 
 q[uence." 
 
 " True," said Sir George ; " but how happened it. Major, 
 that you made so little stir at the late term 1 You had but 
 one cause on the calendar, I think." 
 
 "Oh, I have confined myself to the higher courts, of late," 
 replied the Major. " But, Sir George, I think I have been 
 guilty of a folly, and shall descend a little. When such old 
 and respectable lawyers as Van Brunt will grab at any sort of 
 business they can get, it looks singular to see a young man 
 decline. Besides, I begin to perceive, I may as well have 
 my share of whatever is going." 
 
 " How old are you. Major ?" said Sir George, in a careless, 
 privileged tone. 
 
 The Major halted, and stammered out something which was 
 quite unintelligible. 
 
 " How old did you say?" said Mr. Gates. 
 
 " Oh, almost thirty," said the Major, hurriedly. 
 * " Thirty !" echoed both gentlemen at once. 
 
 " Why, Major !" said Sir George, " you have been in the 
 practice of your profession, one of the prominent ornaments 
 of the bar of this city, for more than two-thirds of that period." 
 
 The Major exhibited a good deal of uneasiness. The ques- 
 tion of his age was his sore point, and ono on which he had 
 
MAJOR VAN- QUIRK'S PROSPECTIVE DUEL. ;9l 
 
 been obliged to stand a bantering, similar to the present, and 
 frequently from the same parties, as often as once a week for 
 ;many years. No wonder he was agitated. 
 
 " The name has misled you," at length he faltered. " There 
 have been other Van Quirks who were lawyers." 
 
 " But," said Sir George, " you were one of the attorneys 
 ■in the great will-case of ' Pickum versus Wickum,' in 173- ; 
 at any rate you have told me so, and that was twenty years 
 ago." 
 
 " Oh, no," said the Major, beseechingly, " I have forgotten 
 the year, but it can not be so long ago as that." 
 
 " I'll tell you what," said Mr. Gates, " this question has at 
 length become one of so much importance, that I feel bound 
 no longer to withhold what I know on the subject. You may 
 have heard, Sir George, that in my childhood (Mr. Gates was 
 now himself quite advanced, for a young man) I spent some 
 time in these Colonies. While here at that ancient period, I 
 went to school to the Major, and I very well remember that 
 they used to call him old Mr. Van Quirk then." 
 
 Sir George laughed immoderately. 
 
 " My God !" gasped the Major. " Gentlemen, it seems to 
 me that you are carrying this joke quite too far." 
 
 But his tormentors were compassionless. 
 
 " It is no joke at all," said Mr. Gates. " From the best 
 evidence that can be gathered at this late day, it is quite cer- 
 tain that the Major has existed, in the present body, not one 
 whit short of a century." 
 
 " And yet how well he is preserved," said Sir George. 
 " He does not look to be over twenty now. His is a perpetual, 
 youth." 
 
 " I can not learn, from the oldest inhabitant," said Mr. 
 Gates, " that there has been any perceptible change in him 
 during his day." 
 
 " Why, he is a veritable second edition of the Jew, 
 
92 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 with the ' wandering' expunged," said Sir George ; " for the 
 Major is altogether a station-e-ry character." 
 
 " That pun of yours is a most villainous one, Sir George," 
 said Mr. Gates. "If the Major were a paper-dealer, it would 
 do better." 
 
 " Were you to hear the Major give an inventory of the 
 foolscap, the gallons of ink, and the bundles of tape he con- 
 sumes in the course of a year,. your judgment on that point 
 would be less severe," returned Sir George. " But I am happy 
 to say that this age-question is likely, at last, to be definitively 
 settled. A dozen ladies, a whole jury, have this day bound 
 themselves together by an oath, the next time the Major ap- 
 pears in court, to have him brought on the stand and ques- 
 tioned in this particular : and the result is to be duly entered 
 on the public records of the city." 
 
 " Ah ! that I shall be able to stand," said the Major, prick- 
 ing up a little. " I am always at the service of the ladies." 
 
 " Like a most valorous knight as you are," said Mr. Gates. 
 " But I have often wondered that a man of the Major's parts 
 should persist in living single all his days, and suffer his vigor 
 thus to waste away, and wealth and beauty, as is very well 
 known, to sigh for him in vain." 
 
 " No flattery, gentlemen," said the Major, with a smile, " you 
 know it is against the rules of the court." 
 
 " But I hear it whispered," continued Mr. Gates, " that the 
 Major is at last in a fair way to be caught ; indeed, that the 
 subject of a matrimonial alliance is even now on the tapis. 
 The foreign beauty is not one to be slighted ; eh, Major ?" 
 
 The Major arose quickly from his chair, threw his coat 
 partly back from his shoulders, and sticking his thumbs into 
 the armholes of his vest strode across the floor in a paroxysm 
 of delight. After a minute or two of silent enjoyment he in- 
 quired : 
 
 " How did you hear of it, Gates ?" 
 
MAJOR VAN QUIRS^S PROSPBOTIVB DUEL. 93 
 
 " Oh, down at Clinton's." 
 
 ^ Yes, I was there to-day," continued the Major, " and had 
 some conversation with the Governor's lady on the subject. 
 She thinks well of it, but — I declare, I don't know — I don't 
 know." 
 
 - The Major accompanied these expressions of doubt with 
 several grave shakes of the head. His two friends regarded 
 him with sympathizing but hilarious countenances. 
 
 " What a pity it is," said Sir George, " that she is poor. 
 Every thing, I understand, was lost with the wreck." 
 
 " There you are mistaken," said the Major, quickly. " The 
 old Don is as rich as Croesus. He has his patrimonial es- 
 tates in Spain, which are none of the smallest as I happen to 
 know, besides extensive possessions in Mexico and the West 
 Indies, and the Lady Viola is his only child. Let me alone 
 to take care of number one, gentlemen." 
 
 The conversation was here suddenly interrupted by the en- 
 trance of a stranger, who proved to be the bearer of a dis- 
 patch for the Major. The missive was received with much 
 ceremony. The party interested, begging to be excused for 
 a moment, glanced at the superscription and broke the seal. 
 At once his eyes became rooted to the paper. He turned 
 deadly pale, and actually shook in his seat. At length he 
 gasped out, '* A challenge !" 
 
 "A challenge !" said Mr. Gates. 
 
 " A challenge !'' echoed Sir George. '* But compose your- 
 self, my dear sir," he whispered. " Recollect you are in the 
 presence of your antagonist's second." 
 
 In truth, for the moment Major Van Quirk was overcome. 
 It did not, however, last long. With the readiness of his pro- 
 fession he recovered his self-possession. The proxy was in- 
 vited to a'seat. Taking a minute or two for deliberation, he 
 turned to that individual, and with a voice sufficiently firm, but 
 with much quickness, said : 
 
94 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 " Tell your principal that I shall do myself the honor to 
 send a bullet — " 
 
 "Are you not precipitating matters too fast?" said Mr. 
 Gates, interrupting him. " Reserve your reply till to-morrow." 
 
 " Very well," said the Major, brightening. " But if any 
 one wishes to meet me on the field of honor I am ready at 
 any hour. I ask not a delay, even of ten seconds." 
 
 The bearer of the challenge was then instructed that his 
 principal should hear from the Major to his satisfaction on the 
 morrow, and thereupon he bowed himself very stiffly and very 
 ceremoniously down stairs. 
 
 " Good God !" said Sir George, " can it be really so 1 To 
 be cut off in the prime of life and usefulness by a pistol-ball 
 or the thrust of a small-sword is no joke, Major. Whom can' 
 you, notoriously unpretending and inoffensive as you are, have 
 had the misfortune to offend so mortally that he should thirst 
 for your blood ?" 
 
 The Major made no reply, but handed the note to hia 
 friends. They perceived that the few lines it contained were 
 signed " Cassino," and that there was an important alternative 
 in the terms of the challenge. If the Major would withdraw 
 his pretensions to the Lady Viola Torrillo, which the Spaniard 
 characterized as an " impertinent interference in matters 
 which did not concern him," the breach might yet be healed. 
 
 " You will relinquish the lady ?" said Mr. Gates. 
 
 " Never," replied the Major, firmly. 
 
 ** Why, this is a serious matter, Major ; what do you intend 
 to do ?" 
 
 " Fight him," said the Major, doggedly. 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo !" shouted Sir George. " Here is the real 
 stuff, true Yankee mettle, every inch. Blood, bone, and sin- 
 ews are all properly tempered, I see. He will maintain the 
 honor of a gentleman to the last gasp. America against 
 Spain ' I back the Yankee, two to one !" 
 
MAJOR VAN- QmBK>S PROSPECTIVE BTTEL. 95 
 
 " I go it, gentlemen, there's no mistake. Call me a teapot 
 if I flinch. But I trust ray friends will stand by me and 
 see that I have fair play ?" added the Major, with a ghastly 
 smile. 
 
 " We will," returned Sir George. " I will be your second,, 
 and will call in the morning for your directions. But keep 
 up your courage, man. Very likely there will be no hit the 
 first shot, and then the affair may be settled ; though these 
 Spanish Dons are apt to be cursed close with a pistol. At. 
 any rate it is no ways certain that you get your quietus, Ma- 
 jor — a mere flesh wound, or the loss of a leg or arm, perhaps^, 
 and what are they to a man's honor V 
 
 The Major forced himself to laugh aloud at this pleasant* 
 picture, but the hollow sound of his own voice shocked him. 
 Sir George continued : 
 
 " And now, my dear Van Quirk, you must wish a few 
 hours to yourself to devote to the arrangement of personal; 
 matters so necessary on an occasion like this. We will 
 therefore bid you good-night, but I will not fail to be with you; 
 early to-morrow." 
 
 Thus saying the two gentlemen departed. t 
 
 Notwithstanding his peculiarities. Major Van Quirk was at 
 heart an amiable and peace-loving man. His foibles were- 
 such as circumstances operating on a weak and vain mind had 
 very naturally induced. His family reckoned among thenr. 
 men of parts, and his great error was in supposing that he was^ 
 one of the number. While he wa» in reality the butt andi 
 plaything of the town, tolerated for amusement and out of 
 respect to others, he imagined himself envied and admired. 
 His ambition was high. He devoted himself to popular sides,, 
 and in the political questions of the day was quite apt to be 
 over-zealous, and was especially ardent in defending the Col- 
 onists against the encroachments of the Crown. He looked! 
 on himself as a champion of the people, and was in the daily- 
 
96 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 expectation of some glorious reward, some high honor at their 
 hands, which he flattered himself was justly due to his valu- 
 able and unceasing efforts in their service, and which would 
 confer on him that wealth and consideration after which he 
 pined. 
 
 But though a clamorous devotee at the Temple of Fame, the 
 gallant Major had no especial desire for the sort of immor- 
 tality at present proposed. " Killed in a duel^'' would make a 
 very attractive heading wherewith to connect his name in a 
 newspaper paragraph, but the aspirations of his mind required 
 something more than this to satisfy them. On his tomb, 
 whenever he might turn to earth, should be written some high 
 achievement, some glorious boon conferred on his country, 
 which would cause men to weep and wonder as they gazed 
 on the place of his silent but majestic rest. His name, so he 
 hoped and prayed and believed, should be fixed among the 
 honored of ages, graved in imperishable characters on the 
 brazen pillar of the world's renown. Neither had he any 
 particular affection for flesh wounds, or the loss of legs and 
 arms, so coolly enumerated by his friend Sir George in his 
 catalogue of chances. Indeed, any and all of these contin- 
 gencies were among those which, in his struggle after an ex- 
 emption from oblivion, he felt extremely solicitous to avoid. 
 
 "When, therefore, the door closed on his noble friends, and 
 he was left alone, he brought his hands convulsively to his 
 forehead, and subjected it to a pressure as though it had been 
 placed in a vice. For some minutes he remained standing 
 where he bade them good-night, as though lost in a maze. 
 Thus he continued until his limbs refused to sustain him any 
 longer, when he tottered to a seat and sunk into a condition 
 bordering on stupefaction. An hour passed off in this man- 
 ner, when, starting up wildly, he uttered a loud, demoniac 
 laugh. Shaking himself, he paced hurriedly across the floor, 
 and struck his fist into the palm of his open hand. Instinct- 
 
MAJOR VAN QUIRK'S PROSPECTIVE DUEL. 97 
 
 ively taking the lamp, he approached the mirror, but was 
 horrified as he looked on himself. His face was bloated and 
 haggard, his eyes red and swollen, and big drops of sweat 
 stood on his forehead. Hastily wiping them away with his 
 handkerchief, as though ashamed of the recoil of the flesh, 
 he made a desperate effort to regain the mastery of himself. 
 After a little he partially succeeded. He then drew out his 
 watch, a repeater glittering with stones, and marked the hour 
 . of the night ; and for a few moments watched intently the 
 ceaseless flight of time. He returned it to his fob, and, act- 
 ing on the hint of Sir George, arranged his writing materials 
 and seated himself at his table. 
 
 He dated a sheet as though for the commencement of a 
 letter, and mechanically wrote beneath : 
 
 " My Dear Mother." 
 
 Strange it is that when trouble is upon one — when Dis- 
 ease holds him in his wasting hand, or dangers threaten him, 
 even though he be some hardened wretch, deforming instead 
 of beautifying the fair fields of earth, his mind will turn back 
 to her who gave him being. She will be remembered with the 
 few, in his last farewell to the world ; and around the recol- 
 lection of none other will cluster purer, better thoughts. And 
 yet it is not strange. Mother ! Every thing kind and lovely 
 and noble is in the name ; and could one forget his mother, 
 he would "he no longer man. He would have lost the last 
 ethereal spark, and become a demon — less than a brute, for 
 brutes have natural aflfection. 
 
 But the Major's mother had been dead for many years ; and 
 after a period 6f abstraction, during which he sat with his 
 head braced on his hands, as he perceived what he had writ- 
 ten, he shuddered at the omen. Throwing by the sheet, he 
 took another, and with great firmness and deliberation com- 
 menced as follows : 
 
 5 
 
98 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 " The last Will and Testament of " 
 
 There was a slight tap at the door, and Sir George Carl 
 ton and Mr. Gates re-entered. Walking familiarly up to the 
 table, their eyes rested on the unfinished writing. 
 
 " Nonsense ! nonsense !" said Sir George, cheerily. "Throw- 
 by your will, Major, and take a new lease of life." 
 
 " For another full century, at least," thrust in Mr. Gates. 
 
 " After leaving you," continued Sir George, " we fell in 
 with the Don ; and if our arrangement, which is strictly 
 honorable to both parties, meets with your approval, the affair 
 is ended. All now rests with you." 
 
 A change came over the countenance of the Major. 
 
 " Are you in earnest. Sir George ?" said he, with evident 
 tokens of doubt and trepidation. 
 
 " Never more so in my life," replied Sir George. " Cas- 
 sino is a reasonable man ; and I ventured to assure him that 
 you were another ; and that the difference between you must 
 have originateji in some mistake. The kernel of the whole 
 matter is, that the Lady Viola Torrillo is his betrothed wife. 
 This he frankly informed me ; and I unhesitatingly assured 
 him that you would be the last man in the world to interfere 
 with a contract, unless professionally, in behalf of a client. 
 Was I right ?" 
 
 " You are always right," said the Major, grasping Sir 
 George warmly with one hand and Mr. Gates with the other. 
 His heart was too full for further utterance, and he hung on 
 them in silence. At length, suddenly bounding away over 
 the floor, he clapped his hands and burst into a triumphant 
 laugh. 
 
 " I see how it is," exclaimed he, speaking in snatches as 
 his merriment permitted. " I tell you, Sir George— I tell 
 you, Gates, I frightened him out of it ! You recollect what 
 I said to his second ! The bragging Spaniard ! Had we 
 fought, I should hiaye muttoned him to a certainty !" 
 
MAJOR VAN QUIRK'S PROSPECTIVE DUEL. 99 
 
 The Major's two friends received these declarations with 
 the most uproarious mirth, in which the Major himself joined. 
 They shouted and stamped and. danced about the floor, amid 
 successive explosions of laughter, until they were exhausted 
 and could laugh no more. 
 
 " Admirable ! admirable !" at length exclaimed Sir George, 
 through his tears. " The Major is correct, though that ver- 
 sion of the matter had not occurred to me before. I see it 
 plain enough now." 
 
 " America forever !" shouted Mr. Gates, though his voice, 
 broken by his convulsions, was little more than a squeaking 
 whisper. " The Yankee has whipped, and Spain is floored !" 
 
 At this moment a servitor, whom the two gentlemen had 
 directed to follow after them, entered, bearing on his arm a 
 basket of champagne ; and though it was now in the small 
 hours of the night, Major Vgin Quirk's last Will and Testa- 
 ment was unceremoniously stuffed into a drawer, and the 
 three friends made a jubilee and a morning of it, around his 
 velvet-covered table. 
 
IHK SPANISH PARTY SUDDENLY QUIT THE CITY. THE SCBKEBY OP THE irUDSOW. 
 
 ' Around its base the bare rocks stoodt 
 Like naked gfauts In the flood." 
 
 THE duel which was not, between Don Ferdinand de Cas- 
 sino and Major Van Quirk, soon got wind ; and in the 
 elucidation of that event it was commonly reported that the 
 difficulty between those two gentlemen had originated in a. 
 copy of complimentary verses, which the gallant Major had 
 picked up in the street, procured to be published, and sent to 
 the Lady Viola Torrillo as his own. This opened the door 
 for an explanation between Charles Warwick and Mr. Zen- 
 ger, to their mutual satisfaction ; and thus was another antic- 
 ipated passage-at-arms, to the great chagrin of the gossip- 
 mongers of the city, averted. 
 
 Relieved of this one cause of disquietude, Warwick, nev- 
 ertheless, still found himself restless and unhappy. Day 
 after day passed away, and nothing occurred to satisfy him 
 of the exact position he occupied with respect to the Lady 
 Viola. She, meanwhile, was lovely as ever, but much of her 
 spirit and buoyancy was gone. She evidently strove to be 
 cheerful and merry, but there was something concealed which 
 weighed her down and overmastered her strongest efforts. 
 Toward Warwick, since the night of the Governor's ball, her 
 deportment had been restrained, but without any mixture of 
 unkindness. She steadily manifested her regard and confi- 
 
SCENERY OF TEE HUDSOK lt^\ 
 
 dence in him, but carefully avoided a denouement. Admirers 
 thronged and flattered her, but their devotion gave her no 
 pleasure ; and since the chivalrous onset of Major Van Quirk, 
 and its lugubrious termination, even the pretensions of the 
 perpendicular Colonel McSpike, which were becoming quite 
 notorious in the city, were insufficient to provoke a smile. 
 
 On the obtuse Scotch officer the whiskers and frowns Of 
 Don Ferdinand de Cassino, which kept many a spark at bay, 
 were lost — absolutely thrown away. With whiskers he was 
 familiar, as he sported a goodly pair himself; and frowns he 
 feared not ; indeed, it is by no means certain that he ever 
 observed them. He was a bachelor of forty-five, and his 
 thoughts were very properly engaged with his lady-love, 
 toward whom he was devoted and ardent, but scrupulously 
 respectful. Every thing portended that with him the crisis 
 had nearly arrived, when, to the general surprise, his partic- 
 ular attentions ceased. He still frequented the house, and 
 was apparently happy as ever, and no one attempted to ac- 
 count for the sudden change in his conduct. It was only 
 known that he had been closeted, for a short period, with his 
 friend Don Manuel ; and, at the close of the conference, 
 retired sullenly to his lodgings, and for that night refused his 
 second bottle and cigar. The next morning his appetite 
 returned, and his face was serene again as the yellow moon, 
 which it very much resembled. 
 
 Suddenly it was rumored that the Spanish party were 
 about to leave the city ; and the truth of the report was im- 
 mediately confirmed to Charles Warwick by a formal ,an- 
 nouncement to that eflfect from Don Manuel himself. That 
 gentleman stated that it was their intention to proceed up the 
 Hudson River, for the purpose of viewing the already famous 
 scenery of those waters, and to 'embark at some eastern or 
 Canadian port for Europe. 
 
 Warwick felt that he had no right to be surprised that his 
 
102 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 foreign friends were about turning in the direction of home ; 
 and yet he was surprised. The passage from the upper 
 waters of the Hudson to the New England ports, at that day, 
 was difficult ; and to the ports of Canada, both difficult and 
 dangerous ; while the chances of obtaining a comfortable pas- 
 sage for Spain, in that direction, were much less favorable 
 than at New York. But the one thought that he was about 
 to be separated from the Lady Viola, soon overmastered every 
 other. From this he shrunk with a feeling of desperation. 
 And yet what could he do ? Latterly a positive fatality had 
 seemed resting on their intercourse. Her father or Don Fer- 
 dinand were always present. And yet, were he to solicit a 
 private interview, after her inexplicable agitation and conduct 
 when he declared his love, and her obvious desire since to 
 avoid the subject, what could he say ? When Don Manuel 
 announced his contemplated departure, she was present. 
 Warwick could not catch her eye, but he perceived she was 
 deeply aiBected ; and realized at once that she was in as much 
 trouble as himself. He determined to seek an explanation, 
 and solution of his own destiny, from her father. 
 
 Before this resolve was carried into execution, however, 
 he received an invitation from Don Manuel to keep them 
 company for the few days they should spend on the Hudson. 
 This was given with so much cordiality and earnestness, as 
 to convince Warwick that, so far as Don Manuel was con- 
 cerned, the separation of himself from his daughter formed 
 no part of the motive of the Spaniards in quitting the city. 
 Could it be that Don Manuel had remained blind to the con- 
 dition of affairs between himself and the Lady Viola? It 
 must be so, or, notwithstanding any relation that might subsist 
 between Don Ferdinand and his daughter, the Spaniard was 
 willing to encourage his pretensions. Warwick perceived, 
 as the invitation was given, that portentous clouds gathered 
 on the countenance of Don Ferdinand, which that individual 
 
SCENERY OF TEE HTTDSOHr. 103 
 
 had great dilSiculty in silently suppressing ; but he also per- 
 ceived with pleasure, that the effect on the Lady Viola was 
 just the reverse. The shadows for the moment fled from her 
 face ; and her moist eye, speaking more than she intended, 
 and what she dared not utter in words, but could not restrain, 
 met his. The meeting was unintended on her part, and yet 
 both knew instantly that they understood each other, and 
 even she could not regret it. Warwick accepted the invita- 
 tion. 
 
 The navigation of the Hudson River, at the period of which 
 we write, was a very different affair from what it is at present; 
 when, in the course of a few hours, our magnificent palaces, 
 which we call steamboats, sweep over its whole navigable 
 length. The business and travel of these waters, at that 
 time, were conducted mostly in sloops ; and a voyage from 
 New York to Albany, at best, occupied some days, and occa- 
 sionally weeks. It was on a fair morning of early summer 
 that one of the largest and most commodious of this sort of 
 craft, which had been chartered for the purpose, received on 
 board the Spaniards with their long train of attendants. 
 Warwick, having bade his more than mother a kind farewell, 
 for a few days, was with them ; and the best wishes of a 
 multitude of friends in the city accompanied them, as with 
 spread canvas their vessel moved from the quay. Gradu- 
 ally they cleared themselves from the swarming craft of the 
 bay and the bustle of the little city ; and slowly they left the 
 town behind them, and pushed forward on the bosom of the 
 clear river ; and no accident having occurred to retard their 
 progress, on the second day they entered the wild and roman 
 tic scenery ofthe Highlands. 
 
 To Warwick, all this was familiar; and yet it had lost 
 none of its charms. To his companions it was new, and 
 filled them with rapture. And who, indeed, so dull to the 
 inspiring aspects of nature, when witnessed in her magnificent 
 
104 CAMP FIRES 01' THE RED MEN". 
 
 creations, as to be able to pass between the points of New- 
 burgh and New York, over the glorious Hudson, though it be 
 for the hundredth time, without having awakened in his breast 
 the most exalted emotions ? Water with its varying life and 
 power, rock, toppling crag and hill, and threatening sky and 
 winds, here all conspire to furnish images of sublimity and 
 beauty. To enjoy the views in all their impressiveness, one 
 should descend the river at night, as did the writer of this 
 history the first time he saw the Highlands. It'was a night 
 without a moon, when a few faint stars alone rendered near 
 objects indistinctly visible. The vessel was one of the proud- 
 est steamboats of that water ; and she pushed onward with 
 the speed of a race-horse, though a""stiff gale was blowing in 
 her teeth. On approaching the gorge of the Highlands, the 
 wind, compressed in a narrow channel, came with redoubled 
 force ; and so cutting keen, as to drive every passenger, save 
 one, below. He, sick and alone, holding on to the bow of the 
 vessel, as she plunged among those dark, threatening hills, 
 through which the mighty river drives its course, and on 
 whose pointed summits the irregular patch of sky which was 
 visible, seemed to rest, thought not of exposure. He was ^ 
 spell-bound, dumb. The steamer swept on, and fairly entered 
 the gorge — ahead, an unknown chasm, an abyss, black as a 
 thousand midnights ; and now, shut in, the same was behind ; 
 with no sound, save the terrible wailing of the winds, the roar 
 of the struggling floods, and the desolate creak, creak, of the 
 engines ; while with all the massive darkness around, the 
 immense, black, interminable peaks above, which stretched 
 hundreds of feet overhead, and seemed closing to overwhelm 
 the doomed ship, were as plainly defined on the sky, as though 
 each had been edged with a border of fire. With him, there 
 was an undefined dread, that the vessel, in her furious career 
 in the dark, was about to plunge into the deep, mysterious 
 abysses of the earth ; which might have been painful, had not 
 
80EKERY OF TBE RUDSOK 105 
 
 every faculty been exhilarated and chained by the grand en- 
 chantment of the scene. 
 
 To the Lady Viola the scenery of the Hudson was full of 
 witchery and romance. By daylight the rougher views were 
 shorn of most of their terrors, and she gazed enraptured. 
 Warwick was by her side, to explain, to give her the name 
 of each locality ; and to connect with many a valley and peak 
 some legendary story. 
 
 A very little exercise of the imagination enabled the Span- 
 iards to recall among the Highlands objects with which they 
 were familiar. The Palisades they likened to immense lines 
 of fortifications, constructed on a scale of magnificence, and 
 frowning with, a gloom and grandeur which their own famous 
 country, with all its ancient honors, could not equal ; while 
 many a mountain peak presented somewhere on its side an 
 apparent tower or crumbling castle, thus oft arraying the 
 landscapes in all the feudal glories of the East 
 
 Doctor Oquetos has been mentioned already as a gentleman 
 of learning and parts. He was of an original, penetrating 
 mind, and something of an antiquary withal ; and was accord- 
 ingly seized with an ardent desire to explore these heights, 
 and solve the mystery of the seeming fortifications which de- 
 fended them. He was only driven from his purpose, at last, 
 by exaggerated fears of the Indians. Thereupon he became 
 engaged in a profound discussion with Signor Antonio, the^ 
 priest, as to the origin of the ancient works scattered through 
 the Highlands of the Hudson ; he maintaining, with great 
 warmth and logic, that they belonged to the ancient race who 
 once inhabited the American Continent, and built the great 
 Pyramids of Mexico ; while the priest argued with equal zeal 
 and rhetoric, that they were of the handicraft of the giants of 
 old. 
 
 5* 
 
tx ixUttix. 
 
 LOOKING TOWAED THE WILDERNESS. A CLOUD AND A SEPARATION.. 
 
 ' Farewell I farewell I The living lights have set, . 
 
 The 8UU hath hid him in the ailent sea ; 
 And the dull moon her ofBce doth forget, 
 
 To cheer us with her beams when gone Is he. 
 
 Farewell 1 farewell I Ah, thus is hope with me.' 
 
 THE commerce of the Hudson at the middle of the last cen- 
 tury was already considerable. The city of New York, 
 by a writer of that period, was compared to a hive of bees, so 
 industrious and stirring was its population ; and the importance 
 of their river, as a vast internal thoroughfare, which, with 
 their capacious and excellent harbor, was to give them a su- 
 periority over other American sea-ports, was already seen in 
 perspective. Frequent vessels dotted the bosom of the river, 
 laden with a great variety of products and merchandise : peltry, 
 the produce of the Indian fur trade, the center of which was 
 at Fort Oswego ; lumber, wheat, and all the variety of grains ; 
 butter from Orange, which, even at that early day, was al- 
 ready famous for the article ; cheese, livestock, and all the 
 native and domestic produce of an extensive and fertile coun- 
 try ; together with powder and shot, blankets, trinkets, and 
 spirits for the Indians ;' and dry-goods, groceries, and muni- 
 tions for the towns and settlers in the valleys of the Hudson 
 and Mohawk, and the frontier stations and forts. 
 
 A return from the North was therefore easy ; and Warwick 
 had intended to accompany his friends at least to Albany ; 
 when, having been already several days on the river, delayed 
 
THE DEOLABATION. 107 
 
 by calms and head winds, and pausing to cull each cluster of 
 flowers from the rocks, and view each fairy prospect by the 
 way, the sloop came to anchor near the point where now 
 stands the thriving town of Newburgh. Several respectable 
 farms and farm-houses skirted the shore ; and here Don 
 Manuel declared it his intention to debark and pursue his 
 journey by land. He even proposed to push beyond ihe set- 
 tlements quite into the interior of the wilderness, and shape 
 his course for Montreal. 
 
 For the second time Warwick was surprised at the plans 
 of his friends. Thinking they might be ignorant of the dangers 
 to which a proceeding of this kind would subject them, he 
 explained to them the warlike character of the Six Nations, 
 through whose territories they would have to pass ; and in- 
 formed them that those tribes were already in a highly irri- 
 tated and inflammable condition, and extremely jealous of in- 
 trusion, or foreign interference of any sort. In reply, Don 
 Ferdinand tauntingly reminded him that a Spaniard, with a 
 few hundred men, had conquered populous Mexicp ; and ex- 
 pressed a readiness himself, with their present force, to march 
 through the whole length and breadth of the Confederacy. 
 Don Manuel also seemed to treat the idea of danger lightly ; 
 and Warwick, perceiving that there was a mystery connected 
 with the movements of the Spaniards, which he did not un- 
 derstand, refrained from further obtruding his opinions. It 
 was obvious, however, that the time of separation between him 
 and the Lady Viola was at hand. 
 
 Accommodations for the principal persons of the party were 
 obtained for a single night, at the main dwelling of the neigh 
 borhood, which was the residence of a Scotchman by the name 
 of Cameron. During the evening, Warwick strove to obtain 
 a few moments of private conversation with Viola, but in vain. 
 Don Ferdinand was ever on the watch, and evidently determ- 
 'ned to prevent it ; and as he noted the chagrin and sadness 
 
108 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEW. 
 
 which, as the hours j*vore away, gathered in spite of him, on 
 the face of the young American, he could not \yell repress his 
 exultation. He gave expression to the feeling in various 
 ways — by look and word and gesture — but all so cunningly 
 guarded as to mean any thing or nothing, save that each one 
 bore its sting. Warwick, while he retained as composed a 
 surface as possible, was well-nigh furious. 
 
 The night, to our hero a sleepless one, passed off, and the 
 morning came. Determined on an explanation, determined 
 to understand his ground before he should part company with 
 his Spanish friends, he so^ught an interview with Don Manuel 
 and while the men were debarking with the baggage, the two 
 walked up along the river bank together. 
 
 They promenaded for some distance in silence, which, per- 
 ceiving that the youth was at a loss and not exactly at his 
 ease, the Spaniard was the first to break. 
 
 " We are about to part. Captain Warwick," said he, " un- 
 less you consent to share the dangers of the forest and the 
 Indians with us, of which you have given us so vivid a pic- 
 ture ; but wherever we may go, whatever may befall us, what- 
 ever oceans or continents may divide us, we shall always beaT 
 in warm and grateful remembrance our excellent American 
 friend, to whom so heavy a weight of obligation is due — to 
 whom we owe life, and consequently all besides." 
 
 Pained at these expressions, for the moment, Warwick was 
 at a loss for words to reply ; and Don Manuel continued : 
 
 " You have said that at some future period you may visit 
 Europe. God grant that we may there again meet ! It would 
 be the pleasure, as it should be the business, of my life, to re- 
 pay to you some small portion of our obligations." 
 
 " No more of this, my dear sir, I implore you !" exclaimed 
 Warwick. " You mistake me ! you overwhelm me ! And 
 though I ardently hope and pray that we may hereafter meet, 
 I beg of you as you value my feelings, to say no more, and 
 
TBE DECLARATION. 109 
 
 think no more, of the slight services which a kind Providence 
 enabled me to render, and which your generosity induces you 
 very much to magnify.' But, sir " ^ 
 
 " But what ?" 
 
 " There is a subject I would gladly recommend to your fa- 
 vorable ear ; a boon I would ask, could it be granted, above 
 all price to me." 
 
 " Go on !" said Don Manuel. " It is granted ere spoken." 
 
 " At least, sir, before we separate, for my own peace of 
 mind and the government of my future actions, I desire a frank 
 explanation, on one point, from the father of the Lady Viola." 
 
 " What has my daughter to do with the matter?" said Don 
 Manuel, quickly. 
 
 " I love her." 
 
 The hand of the Spaniard rung on the hilt of his sword at 
 the instant of this declaration ; but chepking himself he drew 
 haughtily back, as in a tone of surprise mixed with contempt, 
 which he could not wholly conceal, he said : 
 
 " You, sir ?" - ^ 
 
 The action and the word operated like magic on the free 
 American, whom no blood nor king had ennobled, and whom 
 no stamp, save that of God and his own honest acts, had im- 
 pressed as a man. His eyes flashed with a stream of indig- 
 nant fire, but his bearing instantly became calm and self-pos- 
 sessed. Elevating his tall person, he stood with his arms 
 folded on his breast ; and the Spaniard perceived that he was 
 confronted by one as proud as himself. A moment's reflection 
 made Don Manuel regret his harshness. 
 
 " Forgive me, young man," he said. " I was wrong to 
 shape my reply to you in uncourteous language. And not- 
 withstanding the opinions of the world in which I hav& been 
 educated, I am free to confess that the savior of the life of my 
 daughter is in every way worthy of her. But Viola, in this 
 respect, is beyond my control. She is aflianced; and in the 
 
110 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 sight of the Church and of Heaven is already the wife of 
 another." 
 
 " Don Ferdinand de Cassino ?" said Warwick. 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " Will the contract be ratified 1" 
 
 " It will." 
 
 " Your daughter and myself, then, Don Manuel Torrillo," 
 said Warwick, impressively, " have already seen each other 
 quite too much for the happiness, perhaps, of both our future 
 lives. That I learned to love her, you can not wonder. That 
 she should love me, as I believe she does, is, perhaps, more 
 of a marvel. But here we part. I would see her once more ; 
 but I perceive, under the present aspect of affairs, that it might 
 not be wise for either. You will bear her my adieus ; and 1 
 say to you, that I love her more than 1 ever have, or ever can 
 again, love any human being. Tell her whatever you may 
 deem prudent ; only let my leave-taking be kind. And now, 
 farewell !" 
 
 Warwick hurriedly took Don Manuel's hand ; and the Span- 
 iard, whose better feelings were aroused, almost convulsively 
 clung to him. He besought him not to leave them so ab- 
 ruptly ; to see Viola, and receive an expression of her thanks, 
 once more, before his departure ; and overwhelmed him with 
 protestations of obligation and esteem. In the midst of these 
 the youth broke away, and while the Spaniard shouted after 
 him, disappeared among the trees which skirted the shore. 
 
 Don Manuel, with a cloud on his brow, and misgivings of 
 mind to which he had hitherto been a stranger, slowly and 
 thoughtfully turned to seek his daughter. 
 
ajjtn Si^tun. 
 
 THB SPANISH CAVALCADE. SIGHTS AND SOUNDS OP AN AMERICAN WOOD. 
 
 ' Hark ! I hear the traveler's song, 
 As he winds the woods along ! 
 Christian ! 'tis the song of fear — 
 Wolves are round thee, night is near ; 
 And the wild thou dar'at to roam — 
 Oh ! 'twas once the Indians' home !" 
 
 THE Lady Viola, from the window of her chamber at Mr. 
 Cameron's, had observed her father and Charles Warwick 
 as they walked out together, and more than suspected the ob- 
 ject of the young American. She also saw her father as he 
 returned alone, and was able very accurately to divine the re- 
 sult of their conference. She even suspected that it had come 
 to an abrupt termination ; and that she should see Charles 
 Warwick no more. Though deeply affected, she resolutely 
 summoned all the strength of mind she possessed to her aid, 
 and met her father, on his entrance, at least with an outward 
 show of composure, 
 
 " My daughter," said he, very kindly, our friend and bene- 
 factor, Captain Warwick, has left us this morning, on his re- 
 turn to New York." 
 
 "What! without one word of farewell?" said Viola ; and 
 her cheek blanched in spite of her. 
 
 " He thought, doubtless," returned Don Manuel, eyeing her 
 closely, " that a ceremonious leave-taking could conduce to no 
 good ; and such farewells, my dear, are always painful. Are 
 you ill,"my child ?" 
 
 " No, no," said Viola, faintly. " And still 
 
112 CAMP FIRES OF TEE BED MEK 
 
 She stopped abruptly, and covered her face with her hands, 
 while her whole frame shook with agitation. He gave her 
 water, and salts to smell ; and besought her to be calm. Re- 
 covering a little, she continued : 
 
 " It is very strange, dear father, that Captain Warwick 
 should leave us in this manner. We are too much indebted 
 to him to make such a parting pleasant. I could certainly 
 have wished to thank him once more for the life he saved. '^ 
 
 " God will reward him, Viola," said her father. " Heaven 
 will smile on the path of that young man, and scatter it full 
 with blessings. Unfortunately, our debt to him is one of those 
 which can never be repaid. Our thanks, our affectionate re- 
 gard, our gratitude, he must ever have. He sent you, by the 
 hand of your father, my child, his most kind and loving adieus." 
 
 Viola burst into tears ; and Don Manuel, thoughtful and 
 troubled, spent some time in fruitless endeavors to console 
 her. On being left to herself she gave full vent to her grief 
 in a hearty outbreak of sobs and tears, which relieved her ; 
 but two or three hours after, as the party was about getting 
 under way, and a mule was brought up to the door for her to 
 mount, she had barely recovered her composure. 
 
 The preparation and the march had been placed under the 
 immediate command and direction of Michael Johnson. Oc- 
 cupied with the duties of the morning, that individual until the 
 present moment had not been able to assure himself of the 
 positive absence of Charles Warwick. Falling in with Don 
 Ferdinand he inquired concerning him. 
 
 " Captain Warwick has decamped," replied the Spaniard, 
 with a sneer. 
 
 " Decamped ?" said Johnson with surprise. " Do you mean 
 to say that the boy has run away T' 
 
 *' I mean that he has taken French leave," returned Don 
 Ferdinand, tartly; "and where he may be, by this time, 
 Heaven can witness, I know as little as I care." 
 
THE WILD WOODS. 113 
 
 " Don Ferdinand," said Johnson gravely, while suspicions 
 of the worst import flashed across his mind, " 1 hope no evil 
 has befell the lad. 'Tis not in nater for him to run away, or 
 be skeared off; and I tell you, if you have played foul with 
 him, you shall answer for it." 
 
 " Caitiff!" exclaimed Don Ferdinand, black with rage. 
 " What do you mean by such language to me ? Down on your 
 knees ! down, old man ! and ask pardon for the insolence of 
 your tongue." 
 
 " I kneel to none but God," said Johnson, quite unmoved 
 at this display of passion. " But have I wronged you, Don 
 Ferdinand ?" 
 
 " Knave !" said Don Ferdinand, between his compressed 
 teeth, and at the same time approaching him in a menacing 
 attitude. " Were it not for your gray hairs, I would force 
 you down. You shall repent of this." 
 
 " Don't waste your threats, young man," said Johnson. " If 
 I've wronged you, I'm ready to undo it. Forgive and forget 
 is my rule : so let there be peace between us. A man can't 
 always govern his thoughts ; and mine, good or bad, are very 
 apt to come to my tongue." 
 
 " Now you have found your senses again, Michael, and ac- 
 knowledged your error," said Don Ferdinand, " I will tell you 
 all I know about the disappearance of Captain Warwick. But 
 first allow me to inquire why it is that you feel so deep an in- 
 terest in that individual ?" 
 
 • " I hardly know," replied Johnson ; " but most sartainly I 
 like him." 
 
 " To me he seems an empty, conceited puppy," said Don 
 Ferdinand. " I could not learn that he ever had a father ; 
 unless, perhaps, as some surmised, he may be a catch of a 
 night, of the old British officer who adopted him." 
 
 " Captain Warwick's a whole man of himself," said John- 
 son ; " and so far as that's consarned, it don't matter whether he 
 
114 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 ever had any father or mother at all. I like him because he's 
 ginerous and brave ; because he risked his own life to save 
 yours ; because he took the Lady Viola from my arms on that 
 same awful night, and enabled me to save Don Manuel ; be- 
 cause :" 
 
 "Enough! enough!" interrupted Don Ferdinand. " I did 
 not ask for a history of the gentleman's life. Neither do I 
 deny my obligation to him. But, good Michael, let me whis-- 
 per a word in your ear. Were I in peril again, I would much 
 rather die than that his should be the hand to draw me from it." 
 
 Torn with conflicting emotions, Don Ferdinand paused for 
 a moment, and then added : 
 
 " With respect to the departure of this person, it is said that 
 he has returned to New York ; that his sudden exit from 
 among us was occasioned by some high words which occurred 
 between him and Don Manuel this morning, in which they 
 nearly drew their swords on each other. The cause I have 
 not learned. Doubtless our friend Don Manuel, however, was 
 altogether in fault." 
 
 With another sneer, Don Ferdinand turned away ; and 
 Johnson, though his suspicions were not wholly allayed, 
 deemed it prudent, at the moment, to push his inquiries no 
 further. 
 
 The Spanish party, when drawn up in the order of march, 
 presented somewhat of a warlike appearance ; and attracted 
 the curious eyes, and greatly excited the wonder, of the peace- 
 ful inhabitants of the neighborhood. Each man was armed 
 to the teeth. In the forefront was the stalwart Johnson ; the 
 good leader, on whose hardihood and courage, on whose pru- 
 dence in avoiding dangers, and wisdom in surmounting them, 
 and acquaintance with the country to be traversed, were based 
 their expectations of a favorable issue to their undertaking. 
 Next came the rank and file, two by two, numbering some four- 
 score of well-appointed men ; and following them, mounted on 
 
ictin with WOdD^ 115 
 
 horses and mules, were the persons of note and females, Don 
 Manuel and his daughter and maids, Don Ferdinand, and the 
 doctor and priest. Still coming after were the led horses, 
 laden with provisions, baggage and tent cloths, munitions, and 
 all the various articles common to a camp ; while a guard of a 
 few men brought up the rear. As a whole, the party pre- 
 sented the appearance of a military expedition, rather than a 
 simple company of travelers. 
 
 For a time as they receded from the river, they were still 
 cheered with the sight of an occasional cleared field ; but as 
 they advanced, these signs of the vicinity of civilized man dis- 
 appeared, and all that remained as a witness that the white 
 man had ever trod those wilds was the blaze, or mark of his 
 axe, on some tree of the forest. Their course was westerly ; 
 and Johnson, avoiding the more hilly regions, led them at a 
 very leisurely pace through ever-changing prospects of low- 
 land valley and stream. When night came, they cleared a 
 little spot from its under brush, spread their tents, and slept 
 in quiet and safety. 
 
 On the following day, the landscape became more rugged 
 and broken. Hills presented themselves in their path, over 
 which, as they could not always avoid them, they were some- 
 times forced to wind their toilsome way. From their tops 
 mountains arose in the distance, spurs and straggling ridges 
 of the Catskills ; and between would lie spread scenery so 
 soft, and wild, and beautiful, that a painter would gladly have 
 caught it to 'give it life. Here a small lake with waters of 
 transparent clearness, and borders fringed with green, lay 
 sleeping among the hills ; but sent off from its blue bosom 
 chattering rivulet, tumbling in frequent cascades, and meander- 
 ing through somber ravines, until it reached the lower valleys, 
 where, making soft music, it coiled among the willows which 
 dipped their blossoms in its gentle tide, and was lost to sight 
 In the distance. In another spot their way would be obstruct 
 
116 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 ed by a profusion of jagged stones, laying in confusion around, 
 as though broken and scattered by some convulsion of nature ; 
 and again, by huge, naked rocks, with bare brows, worn smooth 
 by the storms of ages, and venerable sides, where a little pale 
 moss was clinging, and where, perhaps, from some crevice a 
 single honeysuckle waved. These cast threatening shadows 
 upon them, and sometimes opened in frightful precipices at 
 their feet. 
 
 Contrasted with these rougher scenes were the wide valleys 
 through which they passed, uplifted with gentle swells, trav- 
 ersed by silver streams, and robed in one full mantle of rejoic- 
 ing vegetation. Here, perhaps, on a gentle acclivity lying off 
 to the sweet south, was an extensive grove of the sugar-tree, 
 the towering maple, one of the most valuable, as it is one of the 
 most beautiful, of the trees of our American forests ; and near 
 by a cluster of the beech, with smooth and variegated trunks, 
 swelling with fatness, while the crown of the eminence would 
 be covered with the mast-like and evergreen pine. In the 
 space of a few acres would be seen, flourishing in wild lux- 
 uriance, set thick and mingled together so that their branches 
 would interlock, arrayed in every shade of green known to 
 nature, nearly every variety of tree belonging to the latitude 
 and the country : the oak, the elm, the maple, the beech, the 
 hickory, the chestnut, with its sunny flowers ; the cedar, with 
 its scented wood ; the spruce, the odorous locust, with its scol- 
 loped leaves ; the tulip-tree, and many more ; while a little 
 apart, on the bank of some stream, the willow would wave its 
 thread-like stems in the wind, and the sycamore spread its 
 great white supplicating arms to the sky. 
 
 Sometimes our travelers found themselves threading a long 
 vista of the forest, shut in by an umbrageous canopy formed 
 by the giant monarchs of the wood, where the rays of the sun 
 never penetrated and a perpetual twilight reigned. Often the 
 timid deer bounded i'rom their path, disturbed as he was sleep- 
 
THE WILD WOODS. 117 
 
 ing in the shade or drinking at some stream or spring ; and, 
 again, the wild turkey, singly or in flocks, startled at their ap- 
 proach, raised high his jeweled head, and gobbling his sur- 
 prise with mock dignity would slowly strut away, but anon, 
 quickening his pace and breaking into a run, or mounting 
 some old log or convenient stone, with much ado he would 
 raise his awkward body into the air, and with heavy flight and 
 sounding wings bear away through the trees. Sometimes 
 they would come suddenly upon the drumming partridge, with 
 her Indian brood, when the mother-bird, with the sly instinct 
 of her nature, to draw attention from her young, would bound 
 twenty feet away like a ball, and there hop and flutter and 
 tumble on the ground, as though engaged in a furious combat 
 with some invisible foe. On approaching her, however, she 
 would fly off" on quick and whirring wing, and it is needless to 
 add that her equally cunning progeny were nowhere to be 
 found. *0f the color of the dry leaves, they would shrink 
 among them motionless, as though dead, and in the dim light 
 of the forest would easily escape detection. The sportive 
 squirrel, the red, black, and gray, with the little chipper chip- 
 muck, disturbed in their solitudes, with plumy tails waving, 
 were constantly dodging around and chattering defiance, 
 while the flying squirrel leaped from tree to tree, performing 
 prodigies of daring above their heads. The kingly eagle 
 looked down in wonder from his eyrie ; the pigeon darted by, 
 his purple breast flashing as he went ; the robin hopped from 
 limb to limb, and sung his songs, at once ready to make the 
 acquaintance of man ; the blackbird gave them his simple lay 
 from the tree-top, and the lark his morning carol from the 
 sky. The wild-goose and loon screamed from the lake ; the 
 turtle-dove uttered his plaintive notes from the dell ; the quail, 
 that vulgar weather-prophet, piped his cry of more wet, or no 
 more wet, as his sage opinion at the moment might happen to 
 be ; while the melancholy whip-poor-will, from his solitary 
 
1 i 8 CAMP FIBES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 bush, poured forth his soul of sadness in the twilight, and the 
 stupid but pretentious owl hooted and whistled at them in the 
 jiight. 
 
 But frequently the party was saluted with sights and sounds 
 of a less agreeable and more startling character. Occasion- 
 B-Uy the gaunt wolf trotted out of their path, looking back 
 wishfully as he departed ; the black bear was disturbed in his 
 covert, and sent forth his hideous growl ; and the panther and 
 the wild-cat would spring angrily to some tree, where they 
 would crouch, with flashing eyes and open jaws, in readiness 
 for a flying descent on their unexpected foes ; or some solitary 
 Indian, with naked bust and immovable countenance, would 
 look out from behind a tree, or down from some height, upon 
 them as they passed. 
 
 The Lady Viola, though ill at ease, and called to the en 
 durance of fatigue much beyond her wont, could not but enjoy 
 these rough, but, it must be confessed, most fascinating dis- 
 plays of forest-life and scenery. The summer winds, playing 
 on the boughs and vines for harp-strings ; mountain, valley 
 and stream, in constant change ; the -profusion of animal and 
 vegetable life ; the immense size, and especially height, of 
 American trees ; the variety and beauty of the wild flowers ; 
 the thousand birds, with their songs ; and even the beasts of 
 prey, and their miniature resemblances, the squirrels, sport- 
 ing so thickly around, were all to her fountains of soothing 
 and pleasure. The bouquets which she received as offerings 
 in these wilds were neither few nor meagre. Her father 
 culled flowers for her with a lover's eye ; and Don Ferdinand, 
 lot to be outdone, fastened to the frontlets of her mule a 
 nosegay of such size as almost to conceal the animal's head ; 
 while the rugged Johnson would stop for her to come up, and 
 with a smile of parental kindness and the gentleness of a wo- 
 man, would present her with a tuft or garland twisted from 
 the leaves and blossoms of his country. Among these the 
 
THE WILD WOODS. 119 
 
 wild rose, the honeysuckle, and the violet, all full of breathing 
 perfumes, would be bound up with the lily, the ground-pine, 
 and the winter-green, still retaining its red and fragrant berry. 
 Though neither wild beasts nor Indians had sufficed to 
 alarm the Lady Viola, it is not to be concluded that she was 
 absolutely above the sentiment of fear. On the second night 
 of their encampment, in the somber hour of twilight, while the 
 men were still busy erecting the tents, and, to satisfy the 
 military habits of Don Manuel, surrounding them with a bar- 
 ricade of brush-wood ; and she and heic maid Ruby were a few 
 rods away, essaying to swing themselves on a grape-vine, the 
 maid suddenly uttered a shriek of terror and sunk prostrate on 
 the ground. As she fell, she both looked and pointed in a 
 certain direction, and the Lady Viola, on turning that way, 
 discovered the outline of a man, who immediately disappeared 
 in the forest. On coming to herself Ruby averred that the 
 stranger bore the face and figure of Captain Warwick, where- 
 upon the Lady Viola became as deeply agitated as her maid. 
 Unable to account for the phenomenon, however, and placing 
 but a slight reliance on the accuracy of her servant's vision, 
 at that hour, she put Ruby under an injunction of silence oa 
 the subject, and retired thoughtful and troubled to her tent. 
 
ni^ttx Btiitnittn 
 
 THE SIX NATIONS OK THE RED MEN. DON FERDINAND MAKES AN UNEXPECTED 
 ACQUAINTANCE. TAB SPANISH CAMP. 
 
 " This land Is oui-s— so, stand ye back 1" 
 
 IT is not to be supposed that Michael Johnson was conduct- 
 ing the Spaniards into the immediate territories of the Six 
 Nations without some apprehension as to the result. He 
 well knew the character and power of the Confederacy ; that 
 from a long series of encroachments, they had become ex- 
 tremely jealous of intrusion ; that they were well supplied 
 with fire-arms, and were skilled in the use of their weap- 
 ons ; and that their courage, which even among their civilized 
 neighbors had given them the appellation of the Romans of 
 the West, was undoubted ; but, unfortunately, he had entirely 
 failed to make Don Manuel and Don Ferdinand understand the 
 ground of his apprehensions. With them, savages were sav- 
 ages ; and they could form no conception of a race of abori- 
 gines, hardier in body and mind, and approaching far nearer 
 their own standard of soldiership, than the effeminate tribes 
 which the warriors of Spain had so readily subjugated at the 
 South. Johnson, therefore, was obliged to content himself 
 with moving warily forward, while he hoped for the best ; and 
 in his calculations of success, it is certain he depended much 
 on his own knowledge of Indian character, and his personal 
 acquaintance and influence with the very tribes with whom 
 the^ were likely to come in contact, which, though long, long 
 
DON FERDINANL FORMS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 121 
 
 years had intervened, he doubted not, should need be, would 
 stand him in good stead. 
 
 For some days the party kept steadily on its course, bear- 
 ing gradually to the north. At length, striking a considerable 
 branch of the Delaware River, they turned to the left, and 
 pursued their way leisurely down its valley. Thus far they 
 had seen little of the natives, and met with no interruption 
 from them whatever. Here, however, they fell in with a small 
 hunting party, with whom, as Johnson was able to converse 
 with them in their own tongue, by prudent management, a 
 friendly intercourse was established. A traffic ensued, which 
 by the time they approached the Delaware itself, furnished 
 them with a sufficient and grateful supply of the common 
 fruits and vegetables of the season. 
 
 Latterly the face of the country had considerably changed. 
 The hills had become more prominent, and often exposed 
 their bald, brown heads defenseless to the storms. Their 
 sides were covered with laurel and trees of a small growth ; 
 and a like vegetation frequently prevailed in the more elevated 
 portions of the lowlands; while in other parts the tall white 
 pine and hemlock stretched away in dense and extensive forests. 
 
 It was about mid-day : the Delaware was near at hand, and 
 the Spaniards for the last hour had been cheered with an oc- 
 casional glimpse of its blue waters through the trees, as they 
 pursued their line of march, when suddenly a deer came bound- 
 ing along, as though frightened or pursued, and dashed through 
 their ranks immediately in front of their small body of horse. 
 Excited by the occurrence, Don Ferdinand galloped in pur- 
 suit. Passing up a slight eminence covered with shrubs, and 
 into the forest beyond, he had nearly overtaken the tired ani- 
 mal, when, suddenly, an Indian stood between him and his 
 chase, 'pie attitude of the savage was not exactly hostile, 
 although he held his tomahawk in his hand in a menacing 
 manner, as he uttered the single word " Wah !" 
 
 6 
 
122 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 But Don Ferdinand was in no mood to be balked. His 
 horse had nearly stopped at the unexpected apparition ; but 
 spurring him hastily forward, the native was thrown down, 
 and the Spaniard drew up by the side of his prey. It was a 
 heavy buck, panting and evidently exhausted from a long run ; 
 but before the chevalier could extricate his weapon to disable 
 him, preparatory to dismounting, he felt himself firmly seized 
 from behind ; and perceived that he was surrounded by a score 
 or more of the red men of the woods, who had come from he 
 knew not where, and mastered him he knew not how. Quickly 
 dragging him from his horse, and stilling his incipient cries, 
 by a hatchet held over his head, and a knife at his throat, un- 
 til they could gag him and confine his arms — feats which they 
 performed with a singular- dexterity — they placed him be- 
 tween two of their number, and urged him rapidly and silently 
 forward into the deep recesses of the wood. 
 
 Don Manuel, meanwhile, having proceeded a short distance, 
 ordered a halt to give time for the chevalier to come up ; but 
 that individual not making his appearance, Johnson, at the 
 head of a file of men, proceeded to make search in the direc- 
 tion he had taken. They soon discovered his horse, which 
 the savages had been in too much haste to secure, or had pur- 
 posely disregarded, lest his hoof-marks should betray the 
 course they had taken in their retreat ; and very shortly after 
 came up to the spot where the fray had occurred. The signs 
 which remained, the disturbed leaves, the broken boughs, and 
 «iome stains of blood on the ground, which, however, had 
 jwed from the body of the bruised native, were sufficiently 
 Uelligible to the eye of Johnson, who at once concluded that 
 ^^e object of his search was a prisoner, and probably wounded. 
 Ordering his companions to remain where they were, he ad- 
 duced alone on the trail of the savages, making as he went a 
 , eculiar cry, intended to arrest their attention and bring them 
 to a parley ; but he soon convinced himself that they were no 
 
DON lERDINAXD FOE MS NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 123 
 
 longer in the vicinity. He perceived that they had arranged 
 themselves in single file for a march ; and having followed on 
 for a mile or more, and remarked the haste with which they 
 had taken their departure, he turned back and made a report 
 of the facts to Don Manuel. 
 
 The capture of Don Ferdinand spread dismay through the 
 party. Don Manuel, of course, would not think of abandoning 
 the chevalier and proceeding without him ; and accordingly, 
 after a short consultation, taking into view^ this hostile demon- 
 stration on the part of the natives, it was determined to halt, 
 and prepare at once for defense. A position was therefore 
 selected, on an elevated point of land, formed by the junction 
 of the branch whose course they had been following with the 
 main body of the Delaware, for a sort of fortified encampment. 
 The spot was a strong one by nature, and the Spaniards im- 
 mediately set themselves at work to render it still stronger. 
 While some cleared the surface of the ground of the laurel 
 and underbrush which covered it, others proceeded to dig 
 trenches and raise embankments ; while others still, cut stout 
 poles from the forest, pointed their ends, and busied them- 
 selves in surrounding the whole with a substantial line of 
 palisades. 
 
 Don Manuel was now himseli again ; in a position which 
 recalled the military experience and adventures of his early 
 life, and infused into both mind and body a vigor to which lat- 
 terly he had been a stranger. He was in the midst of his men, 
 giving directions and cheering them on ; and when night came, 
 he had the satisfaction to see the slight works he had planned 
 in such a state of forwardness as, he judged, to render his 
 camp defensible in case of an attack. Following out the idea 
 of a fortress, which, indeed, under present circumstances, 
 seemed no more than a wise precaution, he posted sentinels 
 at convenient distances, and made provision to have them re- 
 lieved at regular intervals. 
 
124 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 With the prospect of security, and the air of comfort* which 
 the camp assumed as the tents were got in order, the feeling 
 of alarm subsided ; fires were lighted ; and the men, after the 
 unusual fatigues of the day, and a fast which had lasted since 
 morning, busied themselves with the preparation of refresh- 
 ments. Of provisions there was no lack. Since leaving the 
 Hudson, venison had been plenty for the taking ; latterly aft 
 abundance of vegetables had been supplied by the natives, and 
 the stores with which they had set out from the city were as 
 yet hardly touched. 
 
 And now a little event occurred by no means devoid of ex- 
 citement or danger, and of a kind common at an early period 
 to our American forests. Several of the men were turning 
 their spits around a large fire which had been kindled on a 
 surface of loose rock, when one of them perceiving an object 
 in a fissure, which he took to be a squirrel disturbed by the 
 heat, thrust in his hand and seized it. He drew back his arm 
 with a full-grown rattlesnake writhing around his wrist. The 
 Spaniard gave a cry of terror and shook the serpent to the 
 ground. But the king of the reptiles was not disposed to avail 
 himself of his freedom to escape : he threw himself into a 
 coil with his head in the center^ elevated about a foot ; and 
 waved his rattling tail back and forth, as a note of warning to 
 his assailants. His upper jaw was thrown back ready to 
 strike ; his tongue played like an attenuate flame ; his eyes 
 gleamed with a bewildering brilliancy which almost realized 
 the creature's fabled power of fascination, while the variega- 
 ted colors of his skin changed in their hues like a mottled 
 cloud .through which heat-lightning is flashing. The Span- 
 iard was unfortunately wounded in the adventure, and the 
 blood was trickling from his hand. While all the rest 
 drew back in affright, Michael Johnson, knowing that no time 
 was to be lost, stepped behind the monster, and placing his 
 foot suddenly upon him, coolly seized him by the neck with 
 
DON FERDINAND FORMS NEW ACQUAINTANCES . 125 
 
 his hand, and struck oiF his head with a knife. Then strip- 
 ping out the entrails, he bound them on the wounded limb. 
 Whether this be a sovereign remedy for the bite of the rattle- 
 snake, is much to be questioned ; it is certain, however, that 
 in the present instance, as well as in some other similar ones 
 on record, the man experienced no serious inconvenience from 
 the wound. But with the conquest over this one enemy, the 
 Spaniards found their labor had only begun. As the heat pen- 
 etrated into the rocks, another and another presented himself 
 at the same fissure, and was dispatched ; until the slain num- 
 bered several scores, and the men were tired of officiating as 
 executioners, even upon such terrible foes. 
 
 The latter part of the evening, and the earlier portion of the 
 following day, were devoted to a council of war, called by 
 Don Manuel, especially to deliberate on the case of Don Fer- 
 dinand De Cassino. Michael Johnson, the Lady Viola and 
 her maid Ruby, the doctor and the priest, Hugh O'Brady the 
 father of Ruby, and Ambrose, valet to Don Ferdinand, were 
 present ; and the result of their deliberations was, that Johnson 
 should undertake a mission to the Indian villages, to treat in 
 person for the liberation of the chevalier. This was the 
 proposition of the veteran himself ; and accordingly but a very 
 short time after its acceptance was suffered to elapse before, 
 with his constant companion, his rifle, on his arm, he was ready 
 to take his departure. But at the gate of the encampment he 
 was unexpectedly brought to a halt, by the sudden apparition 
 of Don Ferdinand himself, safe and unharmed. 
 
 The chevalier, though he had escaped bodily injury, was 
 much flurried, and gave a very confused account of what had 
 befallen him. He professed to have been subjected to great 
 perils, and to have effected his escape almost miraculously, by 
 taking advantage of the darkness. The aborigines with whom 
 he had come in contact, he represented as efr<i|ninate and 
 brutal ; the little village where he had passed most of the 
 
126 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEW. 
 
 night in confinement, he described as a collection of miserable 
 bark and log huts, some three leagues away, with a great 
 scarcity of men, but an abundance of women and children ; 
 who had testified their pleasure at his presence by every pos- 
 sible species of insult, not even excepting personal violence and 
 the indignity of blows. The chief of the settlement, he ac- 
 knowledged, had rescued him from this degrading treatment, 
 and had shown a disposition to befriend him. 
 
 But however disconnected and apocryphal Don Ferdinand's 
 narrative of his adventures might be, it is certain that the joy 
 at his recovery, in the Spanish camp, was hearty and unani- 
 mous. For the time, his irascible temper and petty tyrannies 
 were forgotten in the general rejoicing that he had escaped 
 being burned at the stake, and very possibly from furnishing the 
 material for a banquet to his captors ; and the uproarious de- 
 light of his immediate retainers, most of whom had been born 
 on his estates in Spain, and regarded him as their hereditary 
 lord by divine appointment, was of a nature not to be repressed. 
 The balance of the day was, therefore, by general consent, 
 devoted to festivity. 
 
Cpptn dfig^tun 
 
 A WILD-WOOD HT7NT. FASHIONABLE AND ARTISTIC RENCOUNTER BETWEEN TWO 
 M0NABCH8 OF THE FOREST. 
 
 " Alp turned him from the sickening sight : 
 Never had shaken his nerves In fight ; , 
 But he better could brook to behold the dying, 
 Deep in the tide of their warm blood lying, 
 Scorched with the death-thirst, and writhing in vain. 
 Than the perishing dead who are past all pain." 
 
 THE liberation of Don Ferdinand, even though effected by an 
 equivocal escape, under all the circumstances was received 
 as a happy omen in the camp of the Spaniards, and operated 
 to dispel the gloomy forebodings which had begun to gather 
 around them ; in the territories, and surrounded as they now 
 were, by the villages of the Six Nations, and cut off by an ex- 
 tensive reach of wilderness, from all communication with the 
 white settlements. Nevertheless they determined still for some 
 days to maintain their present position, not only that they 
 might ascertain the settled temper of the natives, but that they 
 might also recruit themselves and their animals, and provide 
 means for the safe crossing of the Delaware, here a large and 
 rapid river. 
 
 Meanwhile, Johnson did not hesitate to beat up the sur- 
 rounding woods in search of a fresh supply of game ; but 
 finding the neighborhood bare, the deer having been scared 
 away by the vicinity of the camp, he selected O'Brady and 
 -two or three of the Spaniards to accompany him, and pushed 
 deeper into the forest. Though little apprehensive of molest- 
 ation from the savages the habitual caution of the veteran in- 
 
128 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEK 
 
 duced him to proceed with great watchfulness and care. He 
 often listened intently, with his ear to the ground ; explored 
 every valley and hill critically with his eye, before venturing 
 upon it, to detect some stray wreath of smoke ; and examined 
 every trail or footpath, and log, and stone, and patch of soft 
 mold, for fresh prints of the moccasin. But nothing was 
 discovered to excite alarm. 
 
 Coming at length to the foot of a range of hills, whose sides, 
 save where huge rocks projected, or steeps of bare red earth 
 met the sight, were covered with wide fields of laurel and 
 other low shrubs, which, though in reality broken into clumps 
 and traversed by delightful avenues in every direction, present- 
 ed, at a little distance, the appearance of uninterrupted brakes, 
 the party separated, and bore singly toward a designated ^oint 
 near the summit. Each proceeded in silence, winding his 
 way up the eminence, through those natural paths we have 
 mentioned, which in many places were found to be w^orn 
 smooth and hard by the feet of the wild animals which fre- 
 quented them. 
 
 Johnson had advanced about half way to the top of the 
 elevation, when he became aware, from the peculiar sounds 
 and rustling of the bushes in advance, that he was coming 
 upon a herd of deer, and a moment after, the wide branching 
 antlers and chiseled head of a noble buck were projected into 
 view, while the suspicious animal snuffed the air, and turned 
 his large and almost human eyes mquiringly around. In an 
 instant there was the shrill crack of a rifle, and the majestic 
 creature leaped his height in the air, and fell dead among his 
 terrified companions. The timid beasts fled in consternation ; 
 but ignorant of the point of danger, rushed hither and thither 
 like sheep when a wolf is suddenly discovered to be among 
 them; and did not 'succeed in effecting their escape, until 
 two more were brought down, and others wounded. These 
 last, mutilated by the unskillful aim of the Spaniards, made 
 
A WILD- WOOD HUNT. 129 
 
 wild plunges down the rocks and through the bushes, scatter- 
 ing the fragrance of a thousand blossoms on the air as they 
 went, and splashing the green leaves with streams of their 
 purple life. One of those killed was a doe, and as she fell, 
 gasping and quivering, her little spotted fawn stopped by her 
 side, and submitted to be captured. 
 
 A few moments sufficed to strip the skins from the spoil : 
 the entrails were withdrawn, and the carcasses, wrapped in 
 their natural covering, were appended to poles for the con- 
 venience of carriage, when, satisfied with their success, and 
 well laden with the fruits of the chase, the hunters turned in 
 the direction of the camp. 
 
 " Here, down this valley to the right, Hugh," said Johnson, 
 as they raised their burdens to their shoulders ; " we'll circle 
 about a little on our way back, and, may be, take a turkey, or 
 some other nice bit, for the Lady Viola. Poor little soul! it's 
 few enough delicacies she can have any way here in the 
 woods. Dry biscuit, venison, and pounded corn are not such 
 dainties but that a child may get tired of them ; or even a 
 man, who is not used to worse fare. But I've never seen the 
 time, boys, when a decent supper wasn't to be had for the 
 asking around these rivers. Indians and deer alike love the 
 sweet water of the Delaware and Siskehannah. By-the-by, 
 Hugh, you popped over that doe handsomely, as she stopped 
 dum-founded, and did'nt know where to run. If she'd been 
 on the bound, boy, ten to one you'd have missed her. It takes 
 an experienced hand to bring down a deer on the bound. I 
 guess you've fired a gun before you ever saw America ?" 
 
 " It's many a year, Mike," replied O'Brady, " smce I left 
 the ould counthree. There, sure, I fired many a gun, but 
 'twas in the wars, and long afore I went to sarve with Don 
 Manuel." 
 
 "Well, Hugh," said Johnson, "the next deer you aim at so 
 surely, don't let it be a doe, my boy. The meat is not good 
 
130 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 in the summer, and besides, Hugh, look at this little orphan ! 
 A mother should be spared." 
 
 The old man was carrying the trembling fawn under his 
 arm at the time, with its legs slightly confined with his red 
 bandana handkerchief. Turning to the -Spaniards he con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " And you, lads, mustn't fire at the deer at all any more till 
 you can larn to take better aim. God didn't place 'em in the 
 woods here to be mangled and left to die. He put 'em here to 
 be happy among his hills, and his flowers, and his streams, and 
 to sarve man for food. But if we don't know enough to send 
 a clean ball through a vital part, we've no business with them. 
 To aim at the whole body of a deer is an abuse of our faculties 
 and an insult to Providence." 
 
 " Should I not be a good shot ?" said Hugh, recurring with 
 evident satisfaction to the praise which Johnson had bestowed 
 on his marksmanship. " Ten years I sarved good King 
 George in his battles. I was but a young 'un when I first 
 shouthered me musket. Dear, dear ! to think of the grafe of 
 me poor wife when I bade her good-bye. I seen her no more, 
 for she's died; and nather have I looked on ould Ireland 
 ag'in, at all, at all. Me nate girl. Ruby, when she grew up, 
 came all the way over the sea for the love of her ould fadher, 
 so she did, or I 'ud now be all alone on the arth." 
 
 " Well, Hugh," said Johnson, " the world is full of sufTerin' 
 and sorrow, and goes on jest in the way you've been telling, 
 so far as I know. It seems hard sometimes, but I s'pose it^s 
 all for the best. I've seen trouble in my day, too ; but God's 
 will be done,' *Tis not for me to complain, or to forget his 
 marcies." 
 
 The old man drew his bony hand across the end of his 
 nose, as though to wipe away the recollection of other days, 
 and swelling out his chest with a deep-drawn breath, quick- 
 ened his step, as he commenced humming an old song in a 
 
A WILD-WOOD BUNT. \^\ 
 
 low tone, between singing and whistling, as was his custom 
 when occupied in thought. The little party proceeded some 
 distance in silence, which was at length interrupted by a sud- 
 den start, and an exclamation of the single word " Whew !" 
 from the veteran. With a gesture he fastened his com- 
 panions in their tracks, and slightly opening his mouth, placed 
 his hand to his ear, in an attitude of deep attention. In a 
 moment the low, deep growl which had caught his ear became 
 audible to the others. 
 
 " It is a bear," said he, in a tone hardly above a whisper. 
 " But I never heard one make that doleful noise at the sight 
 or the smell of a man. No, no ; she's afraid of something be- 
 sides us, boys — that's sartain. When I — r-" 
 
 A moaning shriek from an opposite hill cut short the sen- 
 tence. It was a plaintive sound, not heavy, but long and 
 shrill, like the cry of human distress. The Spaniards shrunk 
 back in terror. Johnson coolly examined his priming, and 
 directing the men 4o deposit their burdens on the ground, 
 cautiously led the way to a point that overlooked the uneven 
 surface of a narrow, but long and deep valley, thinly covered 
 with trees. Hardly had they become stationary, screening 
 themselves from observation by a body of thick underbrush, 
 when the quick eye of the old hunter caught a view of the 
 animal he had so unhesitatingly pronounced a bear. It was 
 indeed a she-bear, of the largest dimensions, making her way 
 with much haste up the valley, and followed by a quarter- 
 grown cub with all the speed that it could compass. As she 
 advanced she frequently outran her offspring, when, slacken- 
 ing her pace for the little animal to come up, she cast wistfu 
 looks behind, and sent forth a low, harsh growl, as it seemed, 
 half in fear and half in defiance. But now a startling cry, 
 louder and fiercer and nearer than the other, rang through the 
 valley. It had its effect on the bear. She stopped suddenly, 
 •js though convinced that there was no longer safety in flight, 
 
132 CAMP FIRES OF TSE RED MEN. 
 
 and stood for a moment rubbing her nose affectionately against 
 her cub. But another of those fearful shrieks started her 
 again ; she proceeded a few paces and raised herself against 
 the trunk of a tree, as though to ascend, when, looking back 
 at her young one, she tore the bark with her claws, and again 
 started on. Her course, meanwhile, had been bringing her 
 much nearer the spot where the hunters lay concealed, when 
 Hugh O'Brady, eager since the compliment to his gunnery to 
 exhibit his skill, brought his musket to his shoulder. 
 
 " Down with your popgun !" said Johnson, in a low tone. 
 " Would you throw away your charge at this distance, with- 
 out knowin' the strength of the inemy ? Wait till the painter 
 comes, and see that your courage keeps up then as high as 'tis 
 now." 
 
 The bear at length came to a halt on a small level plat, 
 which, for a few feet around, was clear of trees and shrubs, 
 and covered mainly with a red moss, and commenced throw- 
 ing up the soft mold with her pavm;. Industriously she 
 labored, and in a few moments succeeded in excavating a 
 trench sufficiently capacious for her purpose ; when, rolling 
 her back into the cavity, which covered two thirds of her 
 body, she awaited the approach of her antagonist. 
 
 " Hooraw !" exclaimed Johnson, with great animation ; " I've 
 heard tell of that before, but never see it myself. It's a rare 
 thing that a bear knows enough to cover her shoulders from 
 the spring of a painter." 
 
 The panther now appeared, bounding down the hillside 
 and along the valley like a cat, occasionally smelling the 
 earth and lashing up his wrath with his tail, and tearing the 
 saplings and the trees in the exhibition of his wild and furious 
 antics. He approached with caution, and it was some little 
 time before he discovered the position of his enemy. When 
 he had sufficiently reconnoitered, however, he bounded with 
 inconceivable agility toward her ; but when it seemed that the 
 
A WILD-WOOD HUNT. 133 
 
 next spring would have brought him on his foe, he suddenly 
 changed his purpose, wheeled, and threw himself upon the 
 body of a branching oak near at hand, which he ascended 
 with the ease and dexterity of a cat, and planted himself upon 
 a large limb which extended in the direction of his fortified 
 antagonist. 
 
 The bear, meanwhile, kept her position with admirable 
 composure. She lay in her trough, with her legs resting on 
 her body, as perfectly motionless as though she had been dead. 
 The panther eyed her keenly for a moment, whipping his sides 
 slowly with his long tail, when, settling closely to the limb 
 on which he sat, with a leap he appeared midway in the air 
 coming down upon her. Then the body of the bear seemed 
 to shrink into half its size, the surface of her paws expanded, 
 showing the rows of fearful weapons with which nature had 
 armed her, while her legs were contracted to the utmost, to 
 give space for a more effective stroke. She received her 
 terrible opponent on her breast, and sent him back many feet 
 into the air, with a force little inferior to that of his descent. 
 He struck on the ground like a log, and for a time seemed 
 stunned ; but soon dragging himself to his feet, he gave a 
 startling yell, and with little abatement of his former agility 
 regained his position in the tree. There he remained for 
 some minutes to recover himself, or, perhaps, in doubt as to 
 the policy of making another assault on an enemy whose 
 artificial system of defense had placed him on a very unequal 
 footing. But shortly, again, he sprung forward, like an em- 
 bodied thunderbolt, his claws and jaws extended, and his eyes 
 flashing with rage. The bear received him as before, but 
 not, in some respects, with equal success. The panther had 
 descended nearly head foremost, and before her feet could 
 bear against^ his body, he had grappled her throat with his 
 teeth. Still the struggle was but momentary. The great 
 strength of the bear, together with her advantageous position, 
 
134 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 enabled her to force her antagonist from his hold ; but so 
 tenacious was his grasp, that her whole power only sufficed 
 to throw him from her. He sunk on the ground evidently ex- 
 hausted, if not disabled, and lay for some minutes without at- 
 tempting to rise, while dark-red spots were plainly discern- 
 ible, as they rapidly enlarged on his abdomen and breast. 
 
 During the latter part of the conflict, Johnson and his party 
 had emerged from the bushes which previously concealed 
 them, and now stood unnoticed within twenty yards of the 
 combatants. 
 
 " Hugh," said Johnson, " less end the creators, and put them 
 out of their misery. Ill take the painter, and do you let drive 
 into the bear's heart. Mind and aim low." 
 
 But at that instant the fading but still terrible eye of the 
 panther caught the bear's whelp, which till then had stood dis- 
 regarded a few paces behind its dam. Partially raising him- 
 self, the dying but unconquerable animal collected his waning 
 strength, and with a bound cleared the mother and grappled 
 with her cub. The young one made but a feeble resistance ; 
 it sent forth a cry for help, and that cry was its last ; while 
 exulting in his revenge, the panther crushed its bones between 
 his jaws, and raising it in his claws shook it aloft ; and as its 
 mother came up to the rescue, threw it on the ground at her 
 feet, a lifeless and lacerated clod. But the king of the Ameri- 
 can woods was also at his last gasp. The party who stood 
 regarding the scene, with mingled feelings of interest and hor- 
 ror, had noticed in his final effort for mastery or revenge, that 
 the blood was streaming from his breast, and his entrails drag- 
 ging on the ground ; and before the enraged mother could 
 reach him, he fell dead by the side of her whelp. 
 
 Johnson and O'Brady still stood with their pieces elevated, 
 forgetting in the suddenness and excitement of the catastrophe 
 to discharge them ; but now the former with much energy ex- 
 claimed : ♦ 
 
A WILD-WOOD HUNT. I35 
 
 " Let have into the varmint, Hugh ! We'll finish the busi- 
 ness ourselves. Why, it beats all nater and the Indians to 
 boot !" 
 
 Aroused by the noise from the contemplation of the slain, 
 the old bear turned, and receiving both balls in her forehead, 
 sunk lifeless between her antagonist and her offspring. 
 • The party advanced to the scene of combat ; and Johnson, 
 drawing his hunting-knife across the throat of the bear, 
 stretched out the dead animals on the moss to satisfy the cu- 
 riosity of his companions. He exhibited their enormous tusks 
 and claws on his ^nger ; and feeling through the shaggy coat 
 of the bear, he declared her to be good meat, and her skin fit 
 for the couch of an emperor. But it now became evident that 
 the Spaniards, who were standing by, were laboring under 
 some singular hallucination. They cast furtive glances to the 
 right and the left, peering through the trees and upon the hills 
 around, with every mark of aff"right still stamped on their 
 swarthy faces. 
 
 "What's the matter?" inquired Johnson. 
 
 " Where are the Indians ?" said they. 
 
 " Indians !" returned he. " There's fio Indians about that 
 I know of. The noise you heard on the hills was the nateral 
 cry of the pairiter. I've heard them, from the old Connecticut 
 to the Masfeippi, and, for the matter of that, to the Stunny 
 Mountains ; and from the Big Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico ; 
 and they always make a plaint that's terrible to man, some- 
 thing like the crying of a child ; and again, sharper and loud- 
 er, like the shrieks of a woman under the tomahawk. Were 
 you scart, boys ? Well, I don't wonder. In the year '35, 
 coming from Fort Swago, Hendrick the Mohawk was with 
 me, and we camped for the night at the outlet of the Neida 
 Lake. But the venomous bea^s prowled so close around us 
 with their hungry yells, that we didn't sleep a wink all night. 
 Wf^ had enough to do to keep our circle of fires burning,, to 
 
136 CAMP FIRES OF TBE BED MEN. 
 
 frighten them off. Hendrick peppered one, though. We 
 were breaking some dead limbs, for the fires, when we saw a 
 pair of balls' glistening in the dark, like a couple of candles,* 
 or rather like two glowing coals, a little ways off; and I told 
 Hendrick I would just step back and get my gun. But he 
 grunted no, in Mohawk, and let fly his tomahawk between the 
 shining lights. Indians have the gift of the tomahawk, that's 
 sartain. Well, we knew the painter was ended, for we heard 
 the cracking of the dry twigs, the rustling of the leaves, and 
 his choked yells, as he bounded about in his death-struggle. 
 'But we didn't go to him till morning; and then we found 
 the hatchet settled clean and smooth into the creater's head, 
 so that you could'nt see nothing on't but the handle, and a bit 
 as big as my thumb-nail of the pipe-bowl." 
 
 It now became necessary to provide means for the trans- 
 portation of the additional spoils to the camp, especially the 
 heavy bear, whose meat was esteemed by the natives, and 
 those accustomed to its use, as a great luxury ; and while 
 O'Brady and the others went forward with such portion as 
 they could carry, Johnson tarried behind to await the arrival 
 of further aid. Left to himself the veteran sat down on a log, 
 and remained for some time wrapped in his own reflections. 
 At length, rising, he walked leisurely back and forth in the 
 damp valley, whose springs, shut out from the sun, trickled 
 ever over moist earth, and whose atmosphere, though cool 
 and fragrant, was ever hung with shadows, like the gossamer 
 haze of twilight. His ancient rifle, which looked as weather- 
 beaten as himself, and which he had managed to retain, often 
 at a great sacrifice of other comforts, through all the vicissi- 
 tudes of long years, and wounds, and captivity, lay on his arm ; 
 and occasionally he regarded it with a look, such as^one be- 
 stows on an old and cherish*ed friend. Passing up the oppo- 
 site hill, he found a more open prospect. The trees were 
 sparse on the eminence, and he was greeted with the full light 
 
A WILD-WOOD BTJNT. 137 
 
 and warmth of the sun. The Delaware lay off at his right, 
 with its transparent waters, and the green fringes of its curved 
 and winding banks ; and on his left, though at a greater distance, 
 the tributary which came in from the east. At their junction 
 was the encampment, and its smoke was plainly to be seen. 
 
 The old man surveyed the beautiful prospect of river, vale, 
 and hill, and his eye brightened. " Here are God's works," 
 said he, " and they are peace. How different are man's !" 
 But gradually contracting his vision to nearer objects, the ex- 
 pression of his countenance suddenly changed. 
 
 A dead Indian was lying almost at his very feet, partially 
 concealed by a clump of laurel which grew by the spot. The 
 flies were buzzing about in swarms ; and Johnson, waving his 
 hand over the body, drove them away ; and pushing back the 
 bushes, he gazed earnestly on the relic of humanity. The 
 body was that of a robust native in the prime of life. He was 
 reclining partly on his side, and a large stain of blood was on 
 his back ; and the dark tide had run down on the ground, and 
 formed a pool which was now dry, leaving a deep purple color 
 on the leaves, and a profusion of thin red scales, as the crim- 
 son fluid had evaporated in the sun. 
 
 Johnson had witnessed death in a variety of forms : on the 
 domestic couch, surrounded by weeping friends ; on the bat- 
 tle-field, amidst fire, and shrieks, and blood ; but never when 
 it found its way so readily to his heart. There men died of 
 course ; but here lay the poor Indian, in the deep silence of 
 the forest, dead, but no one to tell his story. No friends had 
 wailed over him, and his death-song remained unsung. 
 
 Why this victim lay thus exposed, and how he came to his 
 untimely end, the old hunter was far from imagining. But he 
 was now aroused by the shouts of those who had arrived from 
 the camp ; and calling them to him, he pointed out the marvel. 
 
 " If I were dead on any of their hills," said he, " they would 
 give me a decent burial." 
 
138 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEK 
 
 But Johnson was well acquainted with the feelings and 
 habits of the Indians, and especially with their great anxiety al- 
 ways to reclaim their dead. Getting, therefore, his companions 
 to help him, he covered the body with green boughs and poles^ 
 to preserve it from the beasts of the forest ; and peeling thfr 
 bark from a shaft of pine, he cut some rude characters on it 
 with his knife, thrust it upright in the ground, and hung on it 
 one of the moccasins of the dead Indian. 
 
ajtn "^xuttttn. 
 
 A OAMP-FIRE TABN, EMBRACING SOME INCIDENTS NECESSARY TO BE KtfOWS 
 IN THE EARLY LIFE OP JOHNSON. 
 
 ' The dead leaves strew the forest walk, 
 And withered are the pale wild flowers.' 
 
 T?VENING was at hand as Johnson returned from the hunt ; 
 J-^ and very shortly thereafter he was summoned to the quar- 
 ters of Don Manuel. He found Don Ferdinand there in a 
 condition of extreme restlessness. The chevalier was urging 
 the propriety of throwing out an advance corps on to the 
 waters of the Susquehanna, a distance of some six or eight 
 leagues, to select a spot for another camp, and place it in a 
 condition for the reception of the party. He proposed that 
 the expedition should depart in the night, and that Johnson 
 and himself should head it. Don Manuel evidently regarded 
 the proposition with favor, and Johnson felt no disposition to 
 oppose it. The old man, however, found a cloud resting on 
 his mind through which he could not penetrate. Still the 
 measure proposed seemed no more than a wise precaution. 
 Their present position was a strong one, and he could not 
 doubt, even in case of an attack, and with a force somewhat 
 diminished, that Don Manuel would be abundantly able to 
 defend it. A forced march of a day over the mountain range 
 that divided the two rivers, would bring them at any time to 
 the contemplated post in advance. There, in case of a hos- 
 tile disposition on the part of the natives, some preparations 
 for their security, especially for the safety of the Lady Viola, 
 seemed very necessary. The affair was accordingly consid- 
 
140 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 ered settled, and very shortly thereafter Don Ferdinand 
 retired, leaving Johnson alone with Don Manuel and his 
 daughter. 
 
 " And novp-, good Michael," said the Lady Viola, " if you 
 ^re not too much fatigued by the labors of the chase, will you 
 oblige me with another of those old tales with which you 
 used to amuse me in Mexico, and again on the ocean, when 
 we* lay becalmed ? They have a charm for me which I 
 can not express, and I must always feel grateful for the pleas- 
 ure you have thus afforded me." 
 
 The old man was silent for some moments. At length he 
 said : 
 
 " I'm sad to night, daughter, and that, I fear, is not a favor- 
 able mood for story-telling ; and still, I can't well refuse any 
 thing to your innocent face. But, of late, I've thought much 
 of old times, when I was young like you ; and of the hopes 
 I had then, which are gone. I'm now old and gray , and it 
 *seems like a dream when my rosy boy hung upon my knee, 
 and my wife stepped busily around our. home." 
 
 " Why, Johnson," said Don Manuel, " I did not suppose 
 you ever had a family. I never heard you mention it before." 
 
 " It's rarely I speak of it, sir," replied Johnson, as he rested 
 -his forehead on his hand. 
 
 Although a tinge of sadness was frequently discernible in 
 the countenance and expressions of Michael Johnson, as 
 though memory rested uneasily on some of the scenes it 
 recalled, yet such shadows would remain but for a moment, 
 and were forgotten in his uniform cheerfulness of manner. 
 The father and daughter noiv felt, however, as they regarded 
 his time-worn form, and the emotions which he could not 
 altogether repress, that he had griefs which they dreamed not 
 of; and that his present feelings were of too sacred a nature 
 for the intrusion of either inquiry or consolation ; and the 
 Lady Viola, taking her guitar, struck into a plaintive air, and 
 
TEE OLD mrU-TER'S STORY. 141 
 
 kindly sought to soothe him by the unobtrusive sympathies of 
 music. After a silence of some minutes, Don Manuel re- 
 marked : 
 
 ' "I think you have told me that you are a native of one of 
 the northern colonies ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied the old man, " I vras born in Massachusetts ; 
 and there I spent the fore part of my life, both youth and 
 manhood, saving a trip to the West now and then, to trade 
 with the Indians. There it was that I married ; and there I 
 should have lived to this day, it's altogether probable, if I 
 hadn't lost my wife, which broke up my family and spoilt my 
 home. But I can't say any thing about Lucy to-night. If I 
 talk, I must talk of my little boy ; for I've hardly thought of 
 any thing else since we landed in America. It's marvelous, 
 after I've given him up for dead, for so many long years, that 
 of late, sleeping or waking, on the hills, or by the valley 
 streams, he stands afore me, jest as I last see him on the 
 banks of the Ginessee. It's here," continued he, placing his 
 hand on his heart ; " but it seems, at times, as though he's 
 actually before my eyes, with his deer-skin clothes and beady 
 moccasins, and the wampum belt that Hendrick the Mohawk, 
 gave him. Oh, he had a ruddy face, and his laughing blue 
 eyes were like Lucy's." 
 
 Johnson paused in his retrospection ; but catching the anx- 
 ious and sympathizing looks of the Lady Viola, he proceeded : 
 
 " It is childish, perhaps, to plague you with the fancies of 
 an old head like mine, daughter ; but you asked me for a story, 
 and if you wont let the simple narrative grieve you — for your 
 young heart ought not to know any thing of sorrow yet, for 
 this many a day — I'll tell you how I lost my little boy. 
 
 " Well, Lucy was dead ; no matter how, to-night ; and little 
 Paul was three years old, cr thereabouts. They always 
 called his father a proper son of Ishmael, so far as roving was 
 consarned ; and the few years that Lucy lived, after we were 
 
142 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 married, was the only time of my life when the neighbors 
 would allow that I was tolerable steady. Somehow or other, 
 the great woods, jest as God made 'em, were always pleasant 
 to me ; and I can't deny that from my youth up I had an un- 
 common love for hunting and trading with the Indians. 
 
 " Well, when Lucy was not there, somehow, every thing 
 changed, and in the whole town I couldn't think of any thing 
 1 cared about, so I took to my old ways ag'in, and started 
 West. I couldn't think of separatin' from Paul, and so I took 
 him with me. At Albany, as I had done years before, I loaded 
 a canoe with powder, lead, and blankets, and so on, for a trip 
 to the Mohawk villages, and proceeded up the river. Little 
 Paul was all the real comfort I had. He would help his 
 daddy paddle the canoe, and try to imitate all my actions ; and 
 we hadn't been long among the Mohawks before he'd send an 
 arrow with the best lad of his size in the tribe. 
 
 " The Indians received me in a friendly manner, after their 
 way, and helped me to refit my old wigwam. I gave them my 
 notions for their deer-skins and furs, which I sent down to 
 Albany, or sold to the traders ; and finding their way of life 
 agreeable, I used to go with them in their hunting and trap- 
 ping expeditions, and finally became as one of them. They 
 adopted me into their tribe ; and I must say for ihem that 
 they're a pleasant people to their friends, though very terrible, 
 indeed, in their revenge on their enemies. Months passed 
 oflf in this way, and a whole year ; and by that time, I guess, 
 I'd got to be a pretty good Indian myself; and Paul, with his 
 bow and arrows and blanket, if you didn't see his hair or his 
 eyes, couldn't hardly be told from Wisset, Hendrick's son, who 
 was about the same age. 
 
 There was one Indian in the tribe who always acted sulky 
 when I was about, as though he bore me a grudge. I never 
 knew what for, only I was white ; and John the Wild Cat 
 hated all whites. He was a warrior and a chief, and bold as 
 
THE OLD nXTNTER'a STORY. 143 
 
 lie was treacherous and cruel. We were jest about starting 
 for the Siskehannah on a long hunt, and to trap for the musk- 
 rat and otter ; and Hendrick took me one side, and cautioned 
 me against John. 
 
 " ' Son,' said he, * the Wild Cat has claws, and he watches 
 the course of the White Eagle (for this, you must know, was 
 the name the Mohawks had given me). Many summers ago 
 his squaw and his little ones were scalped by the Mohigans, 
 and white men were with them. Let the eye of the White 
 Eagle be open, and his wing in the clouds, that no beast may 
 spring upon him.' 
 
 " He said no more ; but knowin' that an Indian's warnin' 
 wasn't for nothing, I detarmined to keep a close eye on John. 
 He was one of our party ; and all went on smooth enough for 
 some time, and I saw nothing to excite suspicion until he 
 moved his traps from a pond to a stream where mine were 
 set. I didn't like his actions, but said nothing till my traps 
 began to be stole ; and he had blocked up the paths both above 
 and below me with his'n, totally surrounding me, so that my 
 chance for catching any thing was jest good for nothing at all. 
 Then I told him to clear away, on one side or the other, and 
 give me fair play ; and he replied by asking me if I had ever 
 felt the claws of a wild cat. 
 
 " I answered him. in his own style ; that the talons of the 
 eagle are strong, and he flies high above the mountain where 
 the wild cat yells, and laughs at him. 
 
 " I was a little too fast, I own, in ray reply. I ought to have 
 governed my temper better ; but John had tormented me day 
 after day, until I was clean beyond all bounds of patience. 
 He grappled his knife in his hand at my answer, but seeing I 
 was ready for him, he burst into a laugh, 
 
 " ' Yes, the eagle is strong,' said he ; ' but is the Yen- 
 gee an eagle ? If he has wings, they are like the squir- 
 rel's, that carry him down instead of up. Is he strong ? 
 
144 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 So is the Yengee hog that the wild cat eats. I spit upon 
 you.' 
 
 " Thus saying, he turned sullenly away as though to go off; 
 and 1 thought of applying to the head chief of the hunt for jus- 
 tice agi'n him ; but there is little of law among the Indians but 
 the gun and the tomahawk, as I soon found ; for while I was 
 stooped over fixin' my traps, a ball whistled by my head, and 
 glanced off upon the water. I don't know how it happened 
 that John missed me, for when I looked up, he was running 
 not more than six or eight rods off, and he was reckoned a 
 good shot. I raised my rifle, and hollered after him that I 
 was about to shoot the Wild Cat in the back. 
 
 " At this he stopped short ; and turning round, folded his 
 arms on his breast, and bid me fire. 
 
 " I have had the beaver, afore now, look me in the face as 
 I was aiming my gun at it, and raaly it seemed as though the 
 dumb beast knowed what I was at, and I have waited till it 
 turned its head away before I shot ; and now, when a feller- 
 creater stood in the same place, I couldn't find it in my heart 
 at all to do it. 'Twasn't possible. 
 
 " ' John,' said I, ' what hurt have 1 done you, that you use 
 me as you would a mink when you wanted its skin ?' 
 
 " He dropped his blanket from his shoulders, and pointed 
 with his finger to his naked breast, as much as to say, Take 
 your reckoning there. 
 
 " ' I will not kill you, John,' said I, ' take your life ; but let 
 the Wild Cat, whose ears are cut off, and whose tail drags on 
 the ground, go to some distant hill, where his tribe will not 
 be frightened at his squalls, nor see his shame.' 
 
 " He did not move ; and after a minute answered,* John will die.* 
 
 " ' I will not have your life,' said I. ' Are you not now my 
 captive, my slave, and do you refuse to obey me ? Let the 
 Wild Cat go before he becomes a squaw, and earn him a new 
 name among the Hurons of the Lakes.' 
 
THE OLD HUKTEIPS STOUT. 145 
 
 " He turned slowly and walked off; for by Indian custom, 
 as he'd attempted my life, and I'd spared his, when it was in 
 my power, he belonged to me, and I could dispose of him as 
 I liked. 
 
 '* When he was gone, as it still wanted several hours of 
 sundown, I put back on to the hills in search of game, cheer- 
 ing myself up with the hope that my troubles with the Wild 
 Cat were ended, and, as I thought, very happily to myself; 
 so that I didn't return to the camp till about dark. 
 
 " I forgot if I told you that I took little Paul with me to the 
 Siskehannah. I never could bear to be away from him more 
 than a day or two at a time ; and now, when I left the wig- 
 wams to hunt, or look after my traps, he frequently staid be- 
 hmd with the squaws and played with the other children. 
 That night, as I got home, I raaly think I wanted to see him 
 more than common ; and the first thing I did was to look after 
 him. But he was not to be found. Still I s'posed he was 
 somewhere about, and wasn't alarmed, as I know of, but went 
 to inquiring for him from one to another. The squaws hadn't 
 missed him. Finally, come to think back, the last that any 
 one remembered of him, he was at play, about an hour before, 
 in a little grove of alders ten or a dozen rods from the camp, 
 along with Wild Cat. Then Itrembled, and run for the alders, 
 and got the Indians to help me, and we searched through the 
 woods all around, and I expected every minute to come across 
 his murdered body ; but we searched in vain. 
 
 " We returned to the camp before the moon was up — may 
 be about ten o'clock at night ; and I called the chief men and 
 warriors together and told them the events of the day — all 
 that had taken place between me and Wild Cat. They were 
 very feelin' and friendly toward me ; and no one tried to up- 
 hold Wild Cat at all ; and most of them were furious to pur- 
 sue him and put him to death ; but after a good deal of delib- 
 eration, it didn't seem as if any thing further could be done 
 
 7 
 
146 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 before morning, on account of the difficulty in getting on to his 
 track, as he had evidently taken a great deal of pains to con- 
 ceal the course he had gone. The time we spent a talkin' 
 seemed like an age to me ; and a still further delay was dread- 
 ful ; but when I come to think on't, 'twas all right. As for 
 me, however, I could not think of rest ; so with a torch I kept 
 circling round the camp till near daylight, when I found an 
 arrow that I had made for Paul the day before. It lay in the 
 direction of the white settlements on the Mohawk, and I didn't 
 know what to make of it. I couldn't discover any tracks. 
 ' However,' said I, ' Paul must have been here ;' and so I kept 
 on. There was a little brook near by, and I held my light to 
 the ground, and examined the banks up and down two or three 
 times over. Though it was in the begmnin' of winter, there 
 wasn't any snow yet, and the weather was still mild and the 
 ground soft. Around the water there were foot-prints enough 
 in every direction. After lookin' among them for a good 
 while, 1 finally perceived one on the soft mold, which, from 
 its size and the impression of the mocassin, I knew was 
 Paul's. I examined farther among the large tracks, and soon 
 detected Wild Cat's. From this point I made my start, in 
 pursuit of my terrible enemy. 
 
 " The Indians had taught me to follow the track of a man, 
 as the hound pursues its game ; still, until broad day, I got 
 on but slowly, for 'twas not often that John had left behind 
 him anypositive foot-marks." 
 
 " Were I not so deeply interested in the recovery of your 
 child," remarked Don Manuel, " I should like very well to know 
 how it is that the Indians will pursue a foe through the wil- 
 derness by his trail, with so much certainty and expedition." 
 
 " That is a faculty easier larnt than explained," replied 
 Johnson. " The Indian, in fleeing, avoids the bare ground all 
 that's possible. He jumps from log to log, and stone to stone, 
 wades up and down the streams for the running water leaves 
 
TIIE OLD nUNTER'S STORY. 147 
 
 no print of his foot; doubies on his own tracks, walks back- 
 ward, and resorts to a hundred other contrivances to cover up 
 his path. His pursuers are equally on the alert. It is a 
 settled maxim with the Indians that a creater the size of a 
 man can't get through the woods without leaving marks of 
 some kind. If the ground is hard, and no track, the foot has 
 still left an impression on the dry leaves, or among the green 
 weeds, discoverable to the ixperienced eye of the red man. 
 At every step a twig has been bent or broke, a hanging bough 
 displaced, or a leaf severed ; and they can tell the time, al- 
 most to a minute, since it was done. If a trail suddenly comes 
 to an end, a stone is found off on one side, to which the object 
 of pursuit has jumped ; or he has swung himself off on a hang- 
 ing limb or vine ; or he has climbed a tree and let himself 
 down on the other side. If he has taken to a stream, they 
 foller the banks up and down, until they find where he came 
 out, and then foller on. It's the hardest thing in nater to es- 
 cape them." 
 
 Don Manuel apologized for the interruption, and thanked 
 Johnson for the explanation he had given ; whereupon the 
 veteran proceeded with his narrative : 
 
 " Though I could find no more prints of the little feet that 
 I most cared to see, I still felt sartain that I was on the right 
 track. Gradually the trail bent around to the northwest, and 
 struck ofT in an Indian line. I couldn't think of waiting for 
 any of the rest, so I marked signs on the trees that they would 
 understand, and pushed on. Something past noon I came to 
 the place where Wild Cat had made his first halt, and judged 
 I should be able to hold out till I overtook him. About an 
 hour after dark, however, I lost the trail ; and though I had a 
 good torch, I could not possibly recover it ; besides, from agi- 
 tation and fatigue, I couldn't walk without staggerin' ; so I 
 laid myself down and rested till mornin'. 
 
 " When the day broke, though I hadn't slept much, I felt 
 
148 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 better, and in a short time got on the track ag'in. About 
 nine o'clock, say, I found I was gaining on my enemy, for T 
 came where he had made his second halt and camped for the 
 night. 
 
 " But I perceive I am getting too particular, daughter, and 
 shall tire you both out with my long yarn." 
 
 " No, no, good Michael," returned the Lady Yiola. " Y"ou 
 can not conceive how deeply I am interested for your dear 
 little boy. Do not cut it short ; we sympathize with you in 
 every word." 
 
 " I was able to discover the spot," continued the old man, 
 " where my little Paul had sat and eat his supper, and where 
 he had slept ; and the ground was still moist with his tears. 
 Near by I found his little pocket-handkerchief, where he had 
 no doubt looped it, though so young, for a sign. This is it," 
 said Johnson, taking a small white handkerchief from his 
 bosom, marked with the name of Lucy. The Lady Viola took 
 it in her hand in silence, and a drop of pearl fell from her 
 eye. The veteran proceeded : 
 
 " A little way on, in crossing a swamp, I found the plain 
 prints of his moccasins in the mud, and the tracks looked as 
 fresh as though they were but jest made. Accordingly I 
 pushed on with good courage, and something after noon came 
 to the Ginisee River, jest where there is a sharp bend, and 
 the rocks are piled one upon another as high as a tall tree. 
 Rivers had not stopped me, and I was looking for a place to 
 get down the steep bank, when Wild Cat, carrying Paul in 
 his arms, suddenly appeared in sight, and not more than six 
 or eight rods off. It was jest at the bend in the river I men- 
 tioned, and we came up nearly facing each other, both on the 
 high bluffs, but with a great gap between us. John got his 
 eye on me the same instant that I see him, but he did not run, 
 for he knew my rifle too well, and in a moment I had leveled 
 it at him. His Indian cunning taught him a better way. He 
 
TEE OLD HUNTEWS STORY. 149 
 
 sprung for'ard to the edge of the rocks, and holding my child 
 in his hands between us, so as in a manner to shield himself 
 from my aim, held him dangling over the gulf, which was so 
 deep that I could hardly see down to its black and ragged 
 bottom. My boy was crying and pale, and seeing me he 
 screamed for his father to help him. It turned dark to me, 
 and my gun fell at my feet. 
 
 " When John see he had prevailed, he took Paul down, and 
 broke into a taunting laugh. 
 
 " ' Paul shall be the son of the Wild Cat,' said he, ' and the 
 White Eagle must go back as he came. He can not fly swift 
 enough to save his young one from the rocks ;' and he pointed 
 down the precipice at his feet. ' The White Eagle must go 
 back.' 
 
 " ' John! John !' said I, ' give me Paul and I will go back 
 I will go anywhere you say — to my own people, leave the 
 woods and the Indians, and never come back. I'll give you 
 my guns, my blankets, my traps, and all I have in the world 
 for Paul.' 
 
 " Wild Cat shook his head. ' The bad spirit gives lies to 
 the white man,' said he. ' The young eagle must forget how 
 to fly, and learn to jump like the Wild Cat ; and the old one 
 must go back.' 
 
 " ' Oh, say not so, good John !' I replied in my misery. ' I 
 tell you no lie. I swear by the Great Spirit — by the sun and 
 the earth, that all I have shall be yours, only give me back 
 my child.' 
 
 . " I started as though to find some way to get to him. He 
 waved his hand. ' Come not,' he said ; ' the White Eagle 
 must come no farther. If he crosses this water, the claws of 
 the Wild Cat shall tear the heart of his young one. If he stirs 
 from the rock where he stands, till the great orb sleeps, his 
 nestling shall die.' 
 
 " He gave me no time to say more, but, with his eye fixed 
 
150 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 on me, retreated backward ; and J then heard my darling 
 boy's voice for the last time, as with wild and choking shrieks, 
 he cried to his father to save him. 
 
 " I believe I was about crazy for a while. I lay down on 
 the rocks and had strange fancies in my head. Lucy came 
 to me, dressed like an angel of light, and told me not to mourn, 
 for I should see Paul ag'in before I died. She bathed my 
 temples with a fragrant dew, and sung me to sleep with such 
 music as they have in heaven. 
 
 " When I waked up she was gone. I felt refreshed, but a 
 great fury came over me as I discovered John and Paul in a 
 canoe on the river. I raged like a madman for a little time, 
 but I see 'twas of no use, and quieting down I stretched out 
 my arms to God, and told him Pd trust him with Paul, even 
 in the hands of Wild Cat. I set down on the rock ag'in, and 
 was pretty much stupid, I should think, till about night, when 
 the Indians came up. 
 
 " My Mohawk friends were eager to foller on in pursuit, 
 but I was of a different opinion. I thought it would only en- 
 danger Paul. Doubtless we might overtake and kill the 
 Wild Cat, but I knew that cruel savage too well to believe 
 that he would ever suffer my boy to fall into our hands alive. 
 The Mohawks finally gave way, and we camped on the river- 
 bank for the night. 
 
 " On the following mornin' I colored my skin the hue of 
 copper, painted my face, shaved my head, and chtmged into a 
 complete Indian, determined to dog my enemy secretly and 
 alone. My friends, with the best wishes, bid me good-bye 
 and returned home. I crossed the Ginesee, but John had 
 taken such precautions to conceal his course that I couldn't 
 track him. I had watched him till he landed on the opposite 
 bank, but now discovered that he had taken to the water ag'in 
 with his canoe, and on that wide river all trace of him was 
 lost. Judging most likely that he had laid his course for the 
 
TEE OLD EUNTER>a STORY. 151 
 
 country of the Hurons, I cautiously bent my steps in that di- 
 rection. I crossed the Nigara, and visited most of the tribes 
 around the Great Lakes, but could learn nothing of him, and 
 in two or three months returned to the Mohawk Yalley. 
 
 " The next spring Hendrick sent out spies to the distant 
 tributaries of the Six Nations, among the Hurons, and many 
 other far-off tribes. It was at last owned by the Hurons that 
 Wild Cat had been with them. At length he was met by one 
 of our scouts in a distant hunting-party of that nation. He 
 sent back his answer and defiance to me in these words : 
 
 " ' The White Eagle passed the lake-stream and his nest- 
 ling is dead. Wild Cat goes behind the Great River. If the 
 White Eagle darkens his path he shall follow on the trail of 
 his son.' 
 
 " Nothin' more," continued the old hunter, " has been heard 
 from either to this day. For years I made it my home with 
 the Mohawks, but all my comfort was gone. I became as 
 one of them, and joined them in their wars and their hunts. 
 In every distant expedition I was sure to be one. I have 
 roamed through the great forests, and all America over ; have 
 hunted and trapped on the frozen lakes of the north, and on 
 the rivers far west of the Massippi. In my long wandering 
 life there has been little aim that any one could see, still in 
 all I've had a secret hope that I might yet learn somethin' 
 more of Wild Cat and my little Paul. Such was the secret 
 arrand which led m'e among the Indian tribes of Mexico, where 
 I had the happiness to make the acquaintance of your noble 
 father. I s'pose it is the streams and the hills that I used to 
 see that call these things of late so much into my mind, and 
 set the whole afore me ag'in as fresh as a deed of yesterday ; 
 if it is not, God help me ! I know not what it is." 
 
 The old man covered his face with his hands, and for some 
 time sat silent and motionless, save a slight tremor of the 
 limbs. At length he arose to depart, when Don Manuel said 
 
152 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN: 
 
 " I am not callous to the feelings of a parent, friend John- 
 son, and you have my deepest sympathy. Notwithstanding 
 the lapse of years, and Wild Cat's message, I think you have 
 still grounds for hope. It is not the Indian custom to adopt a 
 prisoner, especially a child, and then destroy him. The ob- 
 ject of the savage was probably to discourage pursuit." 
 
 " He could not — he could not have harmed him !" exclaimed 
 the Lady Viola, with much feeling, as she took the veteran 
 kindly by the hand. " Even the cruel revenge of Wild Cat 
 could not do a deed like that." 
 
 The gray-haired father shook his head. He answered not, 
 but with a strong effort regained his composure and left the 
 tent with his usual firm step. 
 
ajjtu ftoents. 
 
 ^N ALARM. CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATIONS BETWEEN A FATHER AND 
 DAUGHTER. 
 
 • The Indian whoop is on the distant hill, 
 His war-cry shakes the frightened summer air." 
 
 WHEN Johnson found himself in the open air, he paused 
 and cast his eyes over the whole visible heavens, where 
 not a cloud was moving to intercept the twinkling of the stars, 
 save the almost imperceptibly mists that ascended from the 
 camp, and some faint shadows which quietly stole over the 
 tops of the trees in the distance, betokening to his experienced 
 eye the vicinfly of the Indian fires. Feeling ill at ease, and 
 in his own consciousness, that more watchfulness was requi- 
 site than the circumstances which surrounded them would 
 seem to indicate, he proceeded along the line of palisades, 
 spoke each sentinel at his post, and examined critically into 
 the condition of the encampment. Satisfying himself that all 
 was well, he at length retired to his own tent, and wrapping 
 himself in his great-coat, lay down on his blanket until the 
 rising of the moon should call him up to lead the expedition 
 proposed by Don Ferdinand, which it had been determined 
 to get under way that very night. Three or four hours later, 
 the small party detailed for the purpose, headed by the old 
 man and the chevalier, silently let themselves out of the for- 
 tress, and proceeded on their way. 
 
 The morning came bright and cheerily to the Spanish camp, 
 and Don Manuel, in pursuyrice of some suggestions made by 
 
154 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 Johnson, turned his attention to the strengthening of his defenses. 
 While a portion of his men were engaged on a trench, as a 
 support to the most exposed part of the pickets, others pro- 
 ceeded to the erection of a small building of logs, in the cen- 
 ter of the inclosure, for the better accommodation and security 
 of the Lady Viola. By the middle of the afternoon these 
 were nearly completed ; when suddenly each soldier dropped 
 his spade or axe, and seized his weapons. Cries, faint and 
 distant, came down on the breeze from the .north, but of such 
 a character as to alarm and horrify every member of the en- 
 campment. The wild terrifying war-whoop, always enough to 
 curdle the blood, and then heard by the Spaniards for the first 
 time, rung through the valley. 
 
 The first idea, of course, was of an attack, and each soldier 
 hurried to his post. By the aid of his glass, meanwhile, Don 
 Manuel was able to discover on the brow of a hill at about a 
 mile's distance the point from which the sounds proceeded. 
 A party of savages were there assembled for the celebration 
 of a powwow, or for some purpose or demonstration the nature 
 of which he could not understand. They leaped about with 
 singular dexterity, brandishing their knives and tomahawks in 
 each other's faces, and uttering, as they performed their antics, 
 those extraordinary yells which had at first alarmed the en- 
 campment. Don Manuel thought he was able to perceive 
 from some of their attitudes and gestures, that a portion at 
 least of their apparent rage was directed toward the Spanish 
 quarters. In about an hour the strange exhibition was brought 
 to a close, when bearing off on a sort of rude litter the body of 
 a man who, Don Manuel concluded, had been killed or disabled 
 in the performance of their ferocious rites, they disappeared. 
 
 This occurrence very naturally left an unpleasant impression 
 on the mind of Don Manuel : he found himself oppressed with 
 anxiety, and when the labors of the day were closed, and the 
 twilight began to scatter its mists over the valleys and hills 
 
AN ALARM. J 55 
 
 which surrounded his little camp in the wilderness, threatened 
 as he feared by savage hordes, and cut off from human succor 
 he was still in the open air, passing from one point of the de- 
 fenses to another, cautioning tind encouraging the sentinels at 
 their posts ; and though cool and collected, for he was a brave 
 man, his black eye, even when he could no longer see with 
 any distinctness, was often turned inquiringly in the direction 
 of the northern hills. As he did not seem disposed to retire 
 to his quarters, the Lady Viola joined him. She was robed 
 in her mantelet and hat, and brought forth her father's cloak 
 on her arm, to shield him from the chill of night. As she 
 placed the garment on his shoulders, he imprinted a kiss on 
 her fair brow, and kindly took her hand. 
 
 " I hope that the unusual displays of the afternoon," said he, 
 " have not frightened my child ?" 
 
 " The daughter of a soldier, I have heard it said," returned 
 the Lady Viola, " should not know fear ; and still, methinks, 
 there are sounds in nature more agreeable to the ear and more 
 congenial to the heart than the howlings of those forest men. 
 Would that good Michael were here to tell us the meaning of 
 what we have seen and heard this day." 
 
 " Michael Johnson is wise and prudent," said Don Manuel, 
 " and particularly learned in every thing relating to the cere- 
 monies and customs of these red men. Were he here he 
 would doubtless be able to satisfy our curiosity. I think we 
 can hardly need him for any thing beyond, for we have no 
 evidence that those singular proceedings of the savages have 
 any relation whatever to us. In any event, we are well arm- 
 ed, have a strong position, and can defend ourselves." 
 
 " True, father, and the faithful sentinels are at their posts. 
 There is therefore no need that you longer keep watch in per- 
 son at the outworks, and after the toil of this day you require 
 refreshment and rest. Let us go in from the night air, and I 
 will see if my guitar still has the quality of music in it." 
 
156 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 Don Manuel replied not, and Viola continued : 
 
 " The whippoorwill is singing his farewell to the day. How 
 sweet and plaintive ! I love his notes ; they seem the echo 
 of a human chord, to harmonize with the feelings, the hopes 
 and fears and sorrows, which would appear to be the common 
 portion of humanity." 
 
 " And are you then so sad-hearted, my daughter ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, not sad-hearted," said Viola, quickly. " I was not 
 thinking of myself." 
 
 " You had in part, perhaps, your father in your mind," said 
 Don Manuel. " I might, it is true, with very great propriety, 
 blend the farewell of an exile to his native land with the 
 strains of that melancholy bird." 
 
 " Oh, say not so, father ! Indulge not in such fancies. Our 
 own sweet home we will see again ; and you shall lead me, 
 and again I will weep on the grave of my mother." 
 
 « Viola !" 
 
 " Father !" 
 
 " Your mother is a saint in heaven — ^there, or there, or there, 
 among some of those bright stars. Here, in the presence of 
 her pure spirit, I must speak to you to-night of what I have 
 delayed too long. I can no longer withhold. I must speak to 
 you plainly of my affairs, and urge you to your duty. Oh, my 
 dear child ! Were you but safe and happy, how gladly would 
 I rest with her !" 
 
 " Father," said Viola, softly, while her eye stole fearfully and 
 timidly to his, like a gem just melting in a bed of coral, " you 
 wrong your daughter. What could Viola be without her 
 father ?" 
 
 " Daughter," said Don Manuel, with emphasis, " I fear I am 
 wrong to excite you thus ; but it is now both proper and 
 necessary that you should understand my situation fully, and 
 the motives which influence me. I shall hardly see Spain 
 £^gain. Life and safety I no longer value but for your sake. 
 
AN ALARM. 157 
 
 Fortune, I now have none. The wreck of it was buried in 
 the ocean. The blow that drove me beyond the power of my 
 country, divided me from my estates. Our broad Andalusian 
 lands are seized ; they are in the grasp of the spoiler ; we 
 have no home. The grave of your mother is in the keeping 
 of strangers ; who, could I return, might contest my right to 
 her bones, and tax me a pistole for the privilege of moisten- 
 ing the sod that covers her with my tears. Nay, interrupt me 
 not, but hear. My only child need not, must not fall so low. 
 Her worth, her beauty, and position alike render it unneces- 
 sary. Cassino is rich and powerful, and will sustain, in this 
 emergency, the fortunes of our house. As his wife, the time 
 will come when you may demand of your sovereign, and re- 
 ceive at his hands, the estates which of right are yours. 
 Viola, I await your answer. You will not disappoint me?" 
 
 " Oh, press me not to-night, dear father," gasped the Lady 
 Viola. " Would that Don Ferdinand were back in Spain, 
 and we were anywhere in safety and quiet. What is the dross 
 of splendor to a child whose parent is an exile ?" 
 
 Her head sunk on his bosom ; and perceiving that she 
 trembled much, he supported her in his arms. 
 
 " Have I alarmed you by my impetuosity ?" he tenderly in- 
 quired. 
 
 " No, no," replied Viola, quickly. 
 
 " Then promise me to-night, now, that you will no longer 
 oppose my wishes." 
 
 " I can not, dear father," sighed Viola. 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Don Manuel, thrusting his daughter 
 from him, and holding her at arm's length, while his face grew 
 purple with excitement. " Do you refuse stil] to obey me ?" 
 
 " O God ! O blessed Mary Mother ! what will become of 
 me ?" said the Lady Viola, in agony. " Why will you urge 
 me to destroy myself, both for this world and the next ? You 
 love me, father ; then why ask me to cover my hopes and my 
 
. 58 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 heart with milde.w, and embrace a fate more revolting than 
 death ! You wish to see me happy, why then consign me to 
 a hfe of unmixed misery and degradation ?" 
 
 " You speak with pathos, Viola," said Don Manuel, sarcas- 
 tically, " and as though there might be something of inspira- 
 tion in your heart, as well as on your lips. Can it be that our 
 good American friend, Captain Warwick, has taught you a les- 
 son beyond the power of your own reason, or your father's au- 
 thority, to gainsay T 
 
 " However much I may esteem Captain Warwick," re- 
 turned Viola, firmly, for her trying position had forced her to 
 rally and rely on herself, " it has little to do with the estima- 
 tion in which I hold Don Ferdinand de Cassino. My answer 
 to him from the first has been, nayP 
 
 " And will my daughter be so good as to explain to her 
 father the reasons for this pertinacious nay to the noble Cas- 
 tilian's suit ?" 
 
 " I love him not." 
 
 " Well, well, child ; I had no particular affection for your 
 mother when we married ; indeed, I had scarcely seen her 
 thrice ; and yet we lived, oh, how pleasantly together ! and 
 how deep and abiding was the love I learned to bear her !" 
 
 ** But had my saintrti mother been cold and false ; had she 
 been mean and treacherous, and blackened with infamy and 
 crimes, could you have loved her ?" 
 
 " Most assuredly not," replied Don Manuel. 
 
 " Then think no longer that it may be possible for me to 
 love Don Ferdinand." 
 
 " Viola, what mean you ?" said her father, quickly. 
 
 " I mean," returned the Lady Viola, " that were I his wife, 
 I should not feel that I had any guaranty in his integrity or 
 honor for the safety of my person or my life." 
 
 " Oh, Viola ! Viola !" exclaimed Don Manuel, with an ex* 
 pression of horror on his countenance. " What mad delusion 
 
AN ALARM. 150 
 
 has possessed your brain ? Can not your own perverse course 
 be sustained without blackening the fair fame of another ?" 
 
 '' It is hard," replied Viola, " for a child to know that she 
 has become an object of doubt and suspicion to her parent, 
 whose smiles and confidence have hitherto been the sunshine 
 and joy of her life ; but, father, such must your daughter re- 
 main to you, until God will that she succeed in opening your 
 eyes to the true character of him you would call your son." 
 
 Don Manuel sunk into thoughtfulness and silence, and his 
 daughter led him gently along into the log house which had 
 that day been erected, and was now devoted to their joint ac- 
 commodation. A cheerful fire was burning on a loose stone 
 hearth, to dispel the dampness of the green wooden walls ; 
 and before it the two seated themselves on some matted stools. 
 As her father made no reply, the Lady Viola, with a strong 
 and resolute effort, which surprised herself, continued : 
 
 " To say nothing of the dissolute habits of Don Ferdinand's 
 life, to leave all else and come at once to an act illustrative 
 of the man, of such a pointed nature as to satisfy all to whom 
 it may become known, I have only to refer you to an occur- 
 rence in New York. The attempt of an assassin on the life 
 of Captain Warwick, on the night of the ball at Governor 
 Clinton's, you can not have forgotten, as it was a mattea(|^f 
 free remark at our house ?" 
 
 " I remember the circumstance well," replied Don Manuel. 
 " Warwick mastered the villain, and handed him over to the 
 police. I never heard what became of him." 
 
 " Supposing him some vagabond, impelled perhaps by his 
 necessities to commit a robbery, the generous American neg- 
 lected to appear against him, and he was discharged." 
 
 " But what can all this have to do with Don Ferdinand ?" 
 said Don Manuel, impatiently. 
 
 " Enough ! enough !" replied the Lady Viola. " Father, 
 the bravo was his servant Ambrose." 
 
160 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN: 
 
 " God ! you can not know this, Viola ?" 
 
 " I do ! I do ! father. On the day following the vile at- 
 tempt, as I sat reading in the garden in an usual spot — a little 
 nook, among some vines which I had compelled for the hour 
 to furnish me with a shade — Don Ferdinand came to the same 
 place, to receive, it seems, the report of his man. The two 
 were but a few paces from me, and I must needs hear all they 
 said." 
 
 Viola paused. 
 
 " What did you hear*?" almost shrieked Don Manuel. 
 
 " The servant told of his failure, and the master cursed him 
 for a coward, and swore the deed should be accomplished, 
 though he performed it himself." 
 
 " What deed, Viola ? Merciful Heaven ! You have con- 
 nected some two strange events together in your mind, which 
 can have no proper relation to each other." 
 
 Viola perceived that the countenance of her father had be- 
 come white a« marble. 
 
 " You are ill ?" said she, in alarm. 
 
 " No, I am in torture. Give me the evidence !" said he, 
 imperatively. 
 
 " I should be quite willing to have your supposition cor- 
 ifikt, father," continued the Lady Viola ; " but there can be 
 no room for doubt. I had my first intelligence of the attempt 
 to assassinate Captain Warwick from the conversation to 
 which I refer. Don Ferdinand required a minute report of 
 his proceedings from his agent. Ambrose claimed to have 
 followed his instructions implicitly. In the narrative he gave 
 he related how he had followed Warwick from the Governor's 
 castle to the beach overlooking the Bay ; that for some time 
 the American officer walked back and forth beneath the clear 
 moon in such an open space that he could not approach him 
 unseen ; that finally he reclined against a tree and seemed 
 lost in his own reflections ; when, grasping his dagger, the fit 
 
AN ALARM. \Q\ 
 
 menial of such a lord, the valiant Ambrose of that most valiant 
 and honorable Castilian, Cassino, stole up behind his intended 
 victim, and sprung upon him. Being so heavily laden, how- 
 ever, with his master's virtues, in addition to his own, the 
 man fell short of his aim, and became a spoil himself/' 
 
 Don Manuel writhed and quivered in agony. The Lady 
 Viola had spoken with a point and spirit which he had never 
 witnessed before ; and he was dumb. 
 
 " If you desire further proof," continued she, after a few 
 moments' silence, " you may have it, I think, from Michael 
 Johnson. Distressed as I was at what I had thus accidentally 
 learned, and fearful lest a member of our own household should 
 find means to carry out his purpose, and actually murder the 
 benefactor of us all, I determined to confide the matter to 
 Michael, and take his advice. I found him, however, by 
 some means which he did not explain, already aware of 
 Ferdinand's machinations. He assured me that Captain 
 Warwick was on his guard, and that Cassino would be closely 
 watched." 
 
 " Enough ! enough ! daughter," said Don Manuel. " I re- 
 quire nothing more. My mind is not frenzied, my heart is 
 not frozen, however I may seem. My poor brain ! my poor 
 child ! How much you have suffered from my blindness ! 
 But why has all this been kept away from me 1 Was not 
 your father, Viola, above all others, entitled to your con- 
 fidence ?" 
 
 " I know not, dear father," replied Viola, " that I shall be 
 able to explain, to your satisfaction, the reasons which in- 
 duced me to say nothing to you on this subject ; and quite 
 likely I have misjudged and have done very wrong ; but you 
 have always made light to me of the vices of Don Ferdinand ; 
 and besides, I feared that a rupture between you two, just at 
 present, might be disastrous. I knew not, but I feared, that 
 we might be too much in his power to brave him." 
 
162 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEK 
 
 Don Manuel made no reply. He had become calm again, 
 and sat occupied with his own thoughts ; while an air of 
 quiet firmness and resolution stole gradually over his fea- 
 tures, more hopeful to his daughter, and more pregnant with 
 meaning than words. The conversation, for that night, was 
 not renewed. 
 
DON MANUEL TORRILLO. 
 
 " FratI as the moth's fair wing is common fame. 
 Brief as the sunlight of an April morn." 
 
 DON MANUEL TORRILLO was a native of Cordova, a 
 city of Andalusia, and inherited the wealth and importance 
 of an ancient and illustrious house. He had been a soldier in 
 his youth, but his inclinations leading him to seek for political, 
 rather than military eminence, he abandoned the profession 
 of arms, and gave himself up to the business and intrigues 
 of the court. Though, like most of his countrymen, he was 
 possessed of quick feelings and a susceptible heart, still, ow- 
 ing to the circumstances which surrounded him, his engross 
 ment with public affairs, and, more than all, the social habits of 
 the circle in which he moved, he was somewhat advanced in 
 life before he seriously thought of marriage ; and when he 
 finally did marry, it was at the solicitation and for the gratifi- 
 cation of others, his family and friends. His wife was of 
 their choosing, and the whole affair was one with which his 
 affections had little or no concern. 
 
 The match was a very suitable one on the score of rank 
 and fortune ; and luckily for Don Manuel, his partner was 
 possessed of so much good sense and prudence, that during 
 her life he never once had occasion to regret their union, nor 
 ever suspected that she was not as happy as himself. But 
 
164 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEK. ^ 
 
 far different was it with her. The affections of the Lady Tor- 
 rillo had been sacrificed by her parents at the shrine of con- 
 venience ; but in the position they secured for her she was the 
 envy of the world : and at her early death no one took the 
 trouble to reflect that from the period of her marriage her 
 cheek had gradually grown pale and paler, and her eye less 
 brilliant, until she had withered away, like a flower trans- 
 planted from a garden to a desert. And no one among the 
 rich display of her funeral ceremonies imagined that the Lady 
 Torrillo ever had cause of sorrow, except her parents, who 
 moved silently but stricken in the train of mourners, conscious 
 that they themselves had crushed the jewel of their hearts ; 
 and the weeping Viola, then a child, who had clung to her 
 mother like a tendril to its support, and long since had dis- 
 covered, though she comprehended it not, in the hopeless mel- 
 ancholy of her parent, the worm which prayed on her life. 
 
 Don Manuel, though he had so little to do with love before 
 marriage, had subsequently become much attached to his 
 amiable wife, and mourned her loss with a deep and abiding 
 sincerity. The splendor of the court, the strife for political 
 mastery, which heretofore had yielded him pleasure, now be- 
 came a burden and a toil to him. He gradually withdrew 
 from them, and devoted much of his attention to the society 
 and education of his child. She, meanwhile, grew up the 
 blithest of Andalusian maids, as happy as the birds that car- 
 oled with her in her native orange groves, and the fairest 
 thing reflected by the silver Guadalquiver. But ere her edu- 
 cation was completed, Don Manuel received from his Sover- 
 eign a high civil appointment in Spanish America, which, 
 under some peculiar circumstances, he did not deem himself 
 at liberty to decline. He therefore with pain and anxiety at 
 the prospect of a long separation, consigned his daughter to 
 the guardianship of a sister in Madrid, and himself set sail for 
 the New World. 
 
DON MAiruSL TORRILLO. 163 
 
 In Mexico, he found the novelty of his situation and the 
 cares of his office an agreeable palliative to his loneliness ; 
 still he hailed with joy the closing of the two years, when his 
 daughter was to join liim ; and received her to his arms, the 
 blushing woman, radiant as a star ; a matured and improved 
 copy of her he had lost, and the only object for which he still 
 cared to live and struggle with the world. 
 
 The arrival of the Lady Viola in Mexico was soon fol- 
 lowed by that of Don Ferdinand de Cassino, who was some 
 eight years her senior, and to whom in early childhood 
 she had been betrothed, in spite of the feebly urged, but 
 strongly felt, objections of her mother, and who, spurred into 
 a sort of passion by the homage yielded to his affianced dur- 
 ing her Madrid life, "now came, full of impatience, for the 
 consummation of his wishes by the performance of those 
 rites which were to place him in possession of an object of 
 such general envy and adulation. But from some cause Vi- 
 ola seemed little inclined to marriage at all ; and the only 
 perversity of disposition she had ever shown since she could 
 lay any claim to the dignity of womanhood was in her quiet 
 but resolute rejection of the suit of Don Ferdinand. To Vi- 
 ola had been confided by her grandparents the story of her 
 mother ; and though she failed to understand how any one 
 could refrain from loving her kind and noble father, the lesson 
 was not lost on her. She preserved it in her heart, and 
 conned it when she was alone ; and what about it she could 
 not comprehend, she trustingly referred to the category of 
 problems which were to receive their solution in the future, 
 when she should become better versed in the mysterious al- 
 chemy of love. 
 
 The union of his daughter with the son of an old friend 
 and companion'at arms had Ipng been a favorite project with 
 Don Manuel ; and although the gradual lopping off of his own 
 hopes had centered his affections in his daughter so far as to 
 
166 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 make him averse to forcing her inclinations, still he by no 
 means considered the forbearance which he felt disposed to 
 exercise as at all important to the ultimate happiness of his 
 child. He could conceive no reasonable objections to the 
 forming of an alliance and the fulfillment of an engagement 
 every way so proper ; and not dreaming that Viola's disincli- 
 nation proceeded from any thing more serious than maiden 
 coyness or disrelish of restraint, he encouraged Don Ferdi- 
 nand to persevere in his attentions, and himself indulged no 
 other idea than that of a happy result. 
 
 On the part of the Lady Viola these attentions were re- 
 ceived with such cold politeness, and at times with such 
 manifest disgust, as could not have failed to convince any one 
 of the hopelessness of his suit, other than him who knows 
 little of woman's heart, and is ignorant that her affections are 
 not the toys, but the business of her life. Don Ferdinand 
 from the first, considering Viola as his future wife, had neg- 
 lected those little gallantries and kindly offices which imper- 
 ceptibly win the heart, and seemed careless of her regard, 
 until his jealousy was aroused by beholding her an object of 
 interest to others. Then indeed there was a change, but it 
 came too late. Viola saw through the flimsy vail with which 
 he attempted to conceal his motives. She saw that he was 
 heartless ; and he himself, in his carelessness of her good 
 opinion, had not taken the trouble to conceal from her that he 
 was also licentious. To her, therefore, his sudden protesta- 
 tions of esteem, the honeyed words with which he mouthed 
 love's language, and complained of lover's pangs ; and his 
 eighs and tears, for such indeed he had, were worthless, and 
 fell without a meaning at her feet. But he, nothing daunted 
 by the mild displays of her dislike, and pushed on by the pride 
 of a conceited mind to carry a point on which he deemed his 
 manhood staked ; and also at length, perhaps, by a really 
 awakened affection for one so lovely, did not hesitate to follow 
 
DON MANXTEL TORRILLO. 167 
 
 her to America ; and suffered few doubts to interfere with his 
 anticipations of a final triumph. 
 
 Don Manuel was by no means a careless spectator of the 
 world. He had deeply studied human nature, but solely for 
 the furtherance of the great objects of his life. He knew how 
 to inflame, and also how to soothe and bend the minds of men 
 to his purposes, or to the wishes of those in power ; but the 
 very intentness of his application in this direction had unfitted 
 him to judge of the means necessary to secure the happmess 
 of individuals. He looked at mankind in the mass, rather 
 than as an aggregation of separate persons, with different 
 tastes and dispositions, and requiring very dissimilar things in 
 order to satisfy their wants, and secure to them thactr -enjoy- 
 ment of life which is the right of every human bging. He 
 saw, therefore, nothing but a fair sky in the prospect of his 
 daughter's union with Don Ferdinand, whose wealth and rank 
 were equal to his ambition in her behalf, and secured to the 
 chevalier at the outset a favorable position on the political 
 arena, where he had already exhibited a capacity which 
 promised an easy and brilliant success. His defects Don 
 Manuel regarded with a lenient eye. His pride and arrogance 
 he considered as almost necessarily a part of his station, and 
 his loose morals the fault of the age, all of which would be 
 worn away, or at least materially softened, as he should give 
 his attention to matters of more moment, and become inter- 
 ested and occupied with public affairs. He saw not the force 
 of Viola's objections in the clear light with which they were 
 impressed on her mind by the story of her mother, and the 
 disgust and mysterious repulsion of her own feelings ; and he 
 perceived no good reason why his daughter should remain 
 single, or forego the advantages of her birth, because the 
 nobility were licentious. 
 
 But however it might be in the end, week after week 
 passed away, and the suit of Don Ferdinand seemed no nearer 
 
168 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEK 
 
 a successful termination ; when one of those sudden domestic 
 convulsions, which for centuries have been the habit of Spain, 
 occurred, and Don Manuel was numbered among the pro- 
 scribed. He was privately notified of his danger, in season 
 to avoid personal harm ; and knowing the slight avail of in- 
 nocence, or private worth, or public services, in the political 
 wars of his country, he hesitated not to secure his safety by 
 a precipitate flight. He exerted all his powers of persuasion 
 on his unhappy daughter to prevent her from needlessly in- 
 volving herself in his ruin, and, indeed, as a last resort, laid 
 his paternal commands on her to suffer the nuptial ceremony 
 to be performed, and return to her native land under the pro- 
 tection of a husband, and be happy ; but he lost his sternness 
 of purpose when he felt the warm tear of Viola on his cheek, 
 as she hung upon his neck and declared, that nothing on 
 earth, now that her father was an exile, should separate her 
 from him. Don Manuel gave way, and the cold, calculating 
 Ferdinand, touched for the moment with this display of filial 
 affection, gallantly affirmed that he would follow her to the end 
 of the world, to prove his devotion to the charms of her person 
 and the sentiments of her heart. 
 
 Viola, when she understood his determination to accompany 
 them in their flight, begged of him to relinquish the idea, if 
 the supposition that she would change in her sentiments 
 toward him was in any manner connected with the design ; 
 and even Don Manuel seconded her efforts ; but the chevalier 
 had caught a portion of Viola's ardor, and feeling for the time 
 emotions to which he was in general a stranger, resolutely 
 persisted. 
 
 It was no time for indecision or delay, and within a few 
 hours after the first intimation of danger, the three, with a 
 competent body of domestics, were on shipboard, bound for 
 the British Colonies of North America. 
 
 Don Ferdinand now became less obtrusive in his attentions. 
 
DON MANUEL TOBRILLO. 169 
 
 He even privately absolved the Lady Viola from the engage- 
 ment of their parents, which had held them bound to each 
 other from their infancy, and professed to leave her free to ac- 
 cept or reject his suit at pleasure. Meanwhile he exerted 
 himself to dissipate the gloom which hung heavily over her 
 father, and strove in a variety of ways, by words of sympathy, 
 by reading and conversation, to enliven and cheer him. Don 
 Manuel considered himself greatly obliged by the voluntary 
 sacrifices and attentions of the chevalier ; and Viola, as she 
 beheld cheerfulness restored to her father, felt grateful and 
 kindlier toward him, and long before their tedious voyage was 
 ended, by the disastrous wreck of the galleon, she had thrown 
 off much of the reserve and coldness of her former deportment, 
 and had accustomed herself to receive and treat him with the 
 courtesy and familiarity due to a friend. 
 
 During their stay in New York the conduct of Don Fer- 
 dinand varied as circumstances, or rather the horizon of his 
 expectations, seemed to change. He early became jealous of 
 Charles Warwick and suspicious of Viola ; but the obligations 
 under which he lay to the young American operated as a 
 powerful restraint on his actions. He exhibited his feelings 
 in his petulance ; and though he w^as wise enough not to ruin 
 his cause by any open act of positive ingratitude, he did not 
 hesitate to attempt the removal of his rival from his path by 
 the secret knife of the assassin ; from which, as would seem, 
 Warwick was saved by a mere accident. When at length the 
 Spaniards were about to leave that city, the discouraged and 
 exasperated suitor again appealed to parental authority to sus- 
 tain him, and Don Manuel himself thought that it was indeed 
 time that Ferdinand should receive his reward ; yet. after a 
 severe struggle, Viola again prevailed, again obtained delay, 
 if not exemption. Under these circumstances there was one 
 vivid consolation remaining to Don Ferdinand : Viola was at 
 last to be separated from the man who, his heart told him, in the 
 
 8 
 
170 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 space of a few weeks, without the prestige of wealth or rank, 
 had awakened faculties of her soul which he, by many months 
 of obsequious attentions and sacrifices, had been unable to 
 reach; and he had already arrived at that elevated point in the 
 history of his affection, that he preferred to see the object of 
 it miserable, if he could not prevail on her to make him 
 happy. 
 
WABWICE AGAIN. HE TAKES A BOMANTIC RESOLUTION, AND FEBFORMS 
 TRYING ACT OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 
 
 " fortune, fortune I all men call thee fickle." 
 
 WE left Charles Warwick, it will be recollected, on the 
 banks of the Hudson, at the period of his separation 
 from the Spanish party, and immediately after his very un- 
 satisfactory interview with Don Manuel Torrillo. Yielding, 
 for the time, to the dark clouds which overshadowed him, and 
 the evil influences which surrounded him, he deemed all lost ; 
 and careless alike of the present and the future, urged his 
 headlong way into the depths of the forest, whithersoever his 
 aimless steps chanced to carry him. At length, exhausted in 
 mind and body, he threw himself on the ground, and gave him- 
 self wholly to his feelings. He did not weep, for he was not 
 one of the weeping sort; indeed, he hardly thought any 
 longer — ^he had exhausted thought; but he felt; and hopeless 
 misery and despair were in his heart and brain, and stamped 
 upon his features. ' Motionless as the trees that grew around 
 him he remained for hours, but at last his eyes gradually as- 
 sumed new fire. He arose and shook his limbs, which once 
 more seemed full of vigor, looked at the sun, which was 
 already waning in the west, and again started forward, but 
 now with nerve and object in every motion. 
 
 The operations of mind which led to this change in War- 
 wick were by no means unnatural. Of an ardent, hopeful 
 
172 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 temperament, despair could not long hold him down, and 
 while he lay inactive on the leaves, if he could no longer rea- 
 son, he could dream. Forms of what might lie hidden in the 
 future — each form a picture — like the elaborate scenes of a 
 painter, passed in succession before his mental eye, and 
 among them ultimately he perceived the shape he sought. 
 From this point reason resumed its sway; and though no 
 vista, glowing with sunshine, in which imagination could revel 
 with delight, presented itself before him, and invited him to 
 enter, still his consciousness had shown him a way, re- 
 flection had confirmed it, and he determined not to yield his 
 golden hopes of life without a further desperate and final 
 struggle. 
 
 He resolved, therefore, not to lose sight of his Spanish 
 friends, but to follow them in their inexplicable journey. Nor, 
 in coming to this conclusion, were his motives altogether 
 selfish. He believed that they were ignorantly running into 
 danger, that the course they were pursuing was, as it were, 
 inviting their own destruction ; and, irrespective of his per- 
 sonal aspirations, even though it were certain that his own 
 faint hopes were to be utterly blasted, he could not find it in 
 his heart to relinquish the Lady Viola and her father to their 
 impending fate, without an effort to save them. 
 
 Accordingly, with much diligence, the young soldier thread- 
 ed the mazes of the wood, until he struck upon their trail ; 
 and pressing onward, now with scarcely a perception of fatigue, 
 ere nightfall he was rewarded with a sight of the party itself, 
 already come to a halt, and preparing a lodgment for the 
 night. Satisfied with his success, and familiar with forest 
 life, he fell back a short distance, stilled the cravings of hi? 
 appetite with the wild berries and roots which he was able to 
 gather from the earth and the brambles, and found comfortable 
 quarters for the night in the low, thick branches of a tree, 
 where he slept safely and undisturbed until morning. 
 
WHAT BEFELL WARWICK, 173 
 
 Early on the following day, by taking a small circuit, he 
 placed himself in advance of the Spaniards ; and as they pro- 
 ceeded very much at their leisure, he had no difficulty, at any 
 time, in passing entirely around them, and thus ascertaining 
 that their pathway was unobstructed. It was at the close of 
 this day, as the Spaniards h^d halted for the night, that his 
 restless feelings, and the desire to look into the internal 
 arrangements of their camp, in which desire the wish to be- 
 hold the Lady Viola again, formed doubtless a prominent ele- 
 ment, induced him to approach so closely that he ^Tas dis- 
 covered by Ruby O'Brady. He did not wait, in his retreat, 
 for her to satisfy herself of his identity ; and he resolved that 
 the occurrence should operate as a salutary caution for the 
 future. 
 
 The course which the party were pursuing, pushing as 
 they were toward the very center of the confederacy of the 
 Six Nations, was to him more and more a subject of surprise 
 and apprehension. In vain he hoped each morning, as they 
 struck their tents, that they might diverge to the right, a 
 change necessary in order to conduct them to the point, as 
 they had given out, of their destination, and which would 
 keep them nearer the white settlements, and consequently 
 more within the reach of succor in case of need. But day 
 after day they kept on, as it seemed to him, without a thought 
 of the future, and careless alike of their own safety or de- 
 struction. 
 
 As they approached the valleys of the larger streams, which, 
 as Warwick well knew, contained several Indian villages, and 
 were favorite hunting-grounds with the tribes whose castles 
 or centers were farther north, he proceeded in advance, and 
 throwing himself fearlessly among the savages, became a 
 sort of self-constituted envoy in behalf of his Spanish friends. 
 Able as he was to make himself understood by them in their 
 own tongue, and wearing the guise of peace, and boldly con- 
 
174 ^ CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 fiding his own safety to their hands, their suspicious natures 
 were quieted, and they received him as a friend. Especially 
 was he fortunate in falling in with Rollingbow, a chief of the 
 Onondagas, whom he had seen the season before at Albany, 
 and who now cordially invited him to his lodge. 
 
 He found Rollingbow at the ^lead of a large hunting party 
 of hi-s tribe, whose field of operation was at present around 
 the genial waters of the Delaware and Susquehanna. Their 
 camp or village occupied a pleasant valley, shut in by high 
 hills, and through which coursed a pure and gentle stream. 
 It was but a temporary affair, and still had been laid out with 
 considerable attention to comfort and regularity. Most of the 
 lodges were mere wigwams, constructed of poles and bark, 
 but some there were of a more pretending and substantial 
 character, built of logs and clay, after the pattern of the 
 cabins of the white settlements. 
 
 Attached rather to the English than the French interest, 
 and having known Warwick as an English officer and an 
 agent of the British Colonies, the Onondaga deemed this a 
 proper occasion on which to manifest his sentiments, and 
 give strength to his own views among his people. He felt 
 every disposition, therefore, to treat his guest with marked 
 consideration. To this, however, there was one drawback. 
 The near approach of a large body of armed men, who were 
 neither French nor English, and whose object was vailed in 
 profound secrecy, had filled the whole region with alarm. In 
 these strangers Captain Warwick acknowledged a deep in- 
 terest. Rollingbow, however, did not hesitate, at the request 
 of the American, to summon at once the chief men of the 
 vicinity, to hear what he had to say. 
 
 Warwick took it upon him to assure the council of grave 
 chiefs and warriors who had been deemed worthy to assem- 
 ble on the occasion, of the peaceable disposition of the Span- 
 ish party. He informed them how those foreigners had been 
 
WHAT BEFELL WARWICK. 175 
 
 shipwrecked, and cast upon the hospitality of the city of New 
 York : that they had there been treated with great kindness 
 and attention : that finding no vessel in readiness to take them 
 back to their own country, they were now on their way to 
 the French Colonies of the north, in the hope there to meet 
 with a better success : that relying on the well-known mag- 
 nanimity of the Six Nations, they had chosen a route through 
 the territories of the Confederacy : that for all supplies they 
 might need, they were willing to pay: that they came as 
 friends, and desired to depart as friends : and that if unob- 
 structed in their journey, a few days only would witness their 
 final departure beyond the Great Lakes. 
 
 This explanation seemed satisfactory to the council. They 
 adjourned in good spirits, with warm expressions of regard 
 for their American friend, each one shaking him several times 
 over by the hand ; and Rollingbow determined to get up a 
 feast, on the morrow, in his honor. The important person- 
 ages present were accordingly at once invited, and separated 
 from each other and retired to their several homes, in great 
 good humor. 
 
 With the succeeding day came the Warwick dinner. The 
 place selected was the shade of an embowering willow ; the 
 table, the ground ; and the cloth, the fragrant and unpolluted 
 gTass. Here were served up in native earthen and wooden 
 bowls, with rude ceremony, and seasoned with hospitable 
 good-will, the choicest dishes known to their barbarian cook- 
 ery. The principal courses consisted of boiled venison, and 
 cakes made of the maize or Indian corn ; and the delicious 
 succotash, composed of bear's meat, boiled with green corn 
 and beans. The whortleberry, gathered fresh from the hills, 
 with the crimson fruit of the wintergreen, formed the dessert; 
 and it is certain that less savory viands have often been served 
 at festivals of much greater pretension. All joined in doing 
 honor to their guest. They danced before him, and sung 
 
176 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 songs for his amusement. These were, in general, extem- 
 pore stories of the war and the hunt, in which each one was 
 the hero of his own narration, and gave himself up without 
 restraint to garrulity and self-glorification. True, with all 
 this was still preserved a sort of gravity proper to the Indian 
 character, but this only gave the greater zest to the tale, the 
 feathered jest, and the sonorous laugh. 
 
 But while these festivities were still at their height, the 
 sounds of revelry suddenly ceased. The singers became 
 dumb, and the dancers stood still. A runner came in with 
 the intelligence that the friendly relations between them and 
 the Spaniards were already broken ; the blood of a native had 
 't)een spilled, and the offending white was a prisoner. 
 
 From the vivid description of the scout, Warwick was at 
 no loss to conclude that the captive was his particular friend, 
 Don Ferdinand de Cassino ; and it can not be denied that the 
 first wave of the sensation which followed, was mingled with 
 a bitter joy. He did not, however, sufier the unworthy feel- 
 ing to find even a temporary lodgment in his breast. He 
 cast it from him as beneath him and beneath humanity. His 
 second thought was magnanimous and worthy of himself ; and 
 not a moment did he hesitate to act upon it. He inquired 
 particularly into the circumstances of the affair, and perceived 
 at once, and represented to the savages, that the unfortunate 
 rencounter had probably originated in misapprehension, and 
 not in design. In the suddenness of the transaction, and the 
 excitement of the moment, during the brief interval while the 
 Spaniard was in chase of the deer, it doubtless did not occui 
 to him that the animal might be one which the Indian hunters 
 were pursuing ; and instead of regarding himself as an intru- 
 der, he very naturally looked on the native as such, who had 
 stepped between him and his game, just at the instant he was 
 coming up with it. Warwick admitted that the young Span- 
 iard was of a hasty temper, but added that the old chief who 
 
WHAT BEFELL WARWICK. 177 
 
 headed the party regarded him as a son, and would deeply 
 grieve should any ill befall him. 
 
 But it is needless to enumerate all the arguments and efforts 
 of the generous American in behalf of his ungenerous rival, 
 inasmuch as the result is already before the reader. Suffice 
 it that with much difficulty he succeeded in allaying the irri- 
 tated feelings of the savages so far that they consented to 
 restore their captive to liberty unharmed. Accordingly, after 
 a confinement of a single night, Don Ferdinand, much to his 
 own surprise and joy, was informed that he was free, and 
 furnished with a guide to conduct him back to his friends. 
 He departed without suspecting the agency which Warwick 
 had had in his liberation, and indeed without a thought that 
 his dreaded rival could be anywhere in that portion of the 
 world. 
 
 8* 
 
A EEVERSB. THE "WATCH-FrRB AND THE WAB-DANCB. THE INDIAN "WIDOTT, 
 
 " Aye, my own boy ! thy aire 
 Is with the sleepers of the valley cast. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the savages had consented to forego their 
 revenge, and had yielded up their prisoner at his solicit- 
 ation, Warwick was aware, from several circumstances that 
 came within the range of his notice, that their irritation was 
 not wholly allayed. They seemed moody and less social than 
 usual, and he could not but observe that throughout the two 
 succeeding days there was a gradual accession to their num- 
 bers. While turning these facts in his mind, with some anxiety, 
 his ears were saluted with sounds of grief in the distance, 
 which were successively caught up and echoed by others 
 nearer; and soon the village was filled with the cries and 
 lamentations of its whole female and juvenile population. Be- 
 fore he could ascertain the cause of this outbreak of sorrow, 
 he found himself surrounded by a motley assemblage of wo- 
 men and children, who covered him with reproaches, and 
 amid incessant shrieks and wails, seemed with difficulty to 
 withhold themselves from doing violence to his person. While 
 with some effort and apprehension he was keeping them at 
 bay, endeavoring at the same time to calm the tumult, that he 
 might learn the meaning of what he saw, several warriors 
 came up, and with little ceremony dispersed the unsoldier-like 
 rabble. Having done this, two of their number seized him 
 firmly behind, while others presented their weapons in 'such a 
 
 ■9 
 
 ^ 
 
WAR-DANCE— SONG OF TEE INDIAN WIDOW. 179 
 
 manner as effectually to quell resistance, and led him away to 
 the same tenement which ha(i not long before been the prison 
 of Don Ferdinand de Cassino. 
 
 Sudden as was this reverse, Warwick was discreet enough 
 not to sacrifice himself by a fruitless resistance. His seizure 
 was effected without unnecessary harshness, a rare virtue among 
 exasperated savages, and all the more a circumstance of good 
 omen. From his captors he could get no explanation. They 
 were evidently acting under orders, and performed the business 
 of his incarceration as mutely and dispassionately as though 
 they had been pieces of locomotive mechanism. As they 
 were about to depart and leave him to the solitude of his cell, 
 he requested them at least to do him the favor to bear a mes- 
 sage from him to their chief. He desired that Rollingbow 
 would inform him at once of what he was accused, that he 
 might know what cause could induce an Onondaga chief to 
 violate the hospitality he had once proffered to a stranger. 
 
 Something like an hour had passed away, and, meanwhile, 
 the tumult without had very considerably subsided, giving 
 place to moans and the softer sounds of grief, when Rolling- 
 bow came. The chief was grave and stern, and the expres- 
 sion of his countenance comported well with the native dignity 
 of his deportment, as he entered the loflge and addressed his 
 prisoner. 
 
 " Helmo, the guide of the Spaniard, is dead," said he, 
 " slaughtered like a beast on the hills. This may be no news 
 to Captain Warwick, but it was news indeed to us. The body 
 has just been brought in, stained and disfigured with its own 
 blood. The sounds of sorrow you have heard, and the violence 
 you have witnessed, indicate but in part the grief and indigna- 
 tion of my people." 
 
 " And can you suppose for a moment, Rollingbow," said 
 Warwick, in astonishment and alarm that I have had any 
 thing to do with this murder ''" 
 
1 80 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 " How should I know, Captain Warwick ?" returned the In- 
 dian. " You asked the life of your friend, and we gave it, and 
 sent Helmo to conduct him through the wood to his companions. 
 Helmo is slain. I had thought the American brave a friend 
 to Rollingbow and his people. I gave you to eat of my bread, 
 to drink of my water, to lie down by my fire. I treated you 
 like a brother." 
 
 Warwick approached the offended savage, and laid his hand 
 on his arm. " I am innocent," said he, solemnly, " and youi 
 suspicions wrong me. I declare it in the presence of the white 
 man's God, and the Great Spirit of the Indians. I am inno- 
 cent !" 
 
 The act, and the heartiness with which these words were 
 uttered, evidently made a favorable impression on the chief. 
 He then informed Warwick that the family of the guide having 
 become anxious on account of his absence, he had sent out 
 men who had followed the trail to the near vicinity of the 
 Spanish camp, where they had found his lifeless body. The 
 reader will have no difficulty in concluding that this was the 
 same body which had been discovered by Johnson ; and the 
 situation in which he left it, and the subsequent conduct of 
 Ihe Indians on finding it, will at once recur to his recollection. 
 
 But Warwick could not readily bring himself to the belief 
 that the Indian had come to his end by the hand of Don Fer- 
 dinand, a conclusion at which Rollingbow and his people had 
 at once arrived. He knew the Spaniard to be capable of 
 almost any act of baseness, but that he would raise his arm 
 against the life of another, who, at the very moment, was per- 
 forming toward him an important act of kindness, exceeded all 
 his conceptions of depravity. The American forgot to what 
 desperate revenges wounded pride sometimes decoys its vic- 
 tims. Nevertheless he found it extremely difficult to explain 
 the transaction, even to himself, in any way consistent with 
 Don Ferdinand's innocence ; and +his being the case, how could 
 
WAR-DANCE— SONO OF THE INDIAN WIDOW. 181 
 
 he hope to remove the reasonable and settled conviction of the 
 savages ? He saw at a glance the great difficulties of his own 
 situation, and the perils threatening Don Manuel and his party, 
 and felt, in its full force, the necessity on his part of prompt 
 and prudent action. 
 
 " Things look very dark, it is true, Rollingbow," said he ; 
 " but is it not possible that Helmo fell in some broil, after part- 
 ing with the Spaniard ?" 
 
 " His wound is deep," returned the chief; " made with the 
 long knife of the white man." 
 
 " But if Don Ferdinand had killed him, would he have cov- 
 ered his body, and put up a signal over the 'spot, so that his 
 friends might find him ?" 
 
 " A Mohawk did that," replied Rollingbow. " A Mohawk, 
 who could not stay to tell us, found Helmo naked in the forest, 
 and covered him away from the wolves." 
 
 " Rollingbow ! Rollingbow !" said Warwick, in painful mo- 
 mentary excitement, " I can not explain this terrible catastrophe. 
 It is a horrible mystery. But believe me, no Christian man 
 could commit such a dastardly act." 
 
 " And would an Indian do it ?" said Rollingbow, proudly, 
 and stretching his stra.ight form to its utmost altitude. 
 
 " No, no," replied Warwick, quickly. " There are bad In- 
 dians, but there is no Indian vile enough to break his faith and 
 kill his friend. For years I lived with your people, and suf- 
 fered much at the hands of some of them ; but never did I 
 witness among them a deed of so black a dye as that of which 
 you seem disposed to accuse this Spaniard, and never, I must 
 add, have I witnessed before to-day a breach of hospitality in 
 a chief." 
 
 The Indian smiled faintly as he replied : 
 
 " These logs will save the American from the tomahawks 
 of my braves, and the taunts and blows of my women and 
 young men. When the moon palos in the morning, good liian 
 
182 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 or bad man, he can go. The door of his prison shall be set 
 open. He is strong. Let him run' with the fleetness of the 
 deer till he finds himself safe in the great town with his people. 
 Rollingbow breaks not his faith with the stranger." 
 
 Warwick seized the noble savage by the hand, and pressed 
 it to his heart. 
 
 " Though there are strong reasons," said he, " why I would 
 not at present have any intercourse with these Spaniards, I 
 will go to them and unravel this mystery. If they have wronged 
 you, they must make you reparation." 
 
 The Indian laughed again, but this time it was in derision. 
 He elevated his tall and commanding person, and swung his 
 arm above his head with an emphatic gesture, as he replied : 
 
 " Shall we beg of the pale faces a string of beads or a blan- 
 ket, for the life of an Onondaga ? The spirits of our fathers, 
 the ghost of the dead Helmo, would come among us and point 
 their fingers at us in scorn. The Spaniards shall die !" 
 
 Thus saying, Rollingbow, like a proper monarch of the 
 wilds, strode out of the lodge. 
 
 The tenement in which Warwick was confined was of loose 
 construction, but of considerable strength. There were aper- 
 tures here and there between the logs, which, in the absence 
 of windows, served to let in a modicum of light, and through 
 which a partial survey of what was occurring without might be 
 obtained. A rude door of split wood closed the entrance, and 
 before it was stationed a solitary saitege as a guard. In no 
 very pleasurable frame of mind, though the prospect of liberty 
 at no very distant period was before him, our hero placed him- 
 self at the wall, to observe, as best he might, the temper and 
 movements of the Indians. 
 
 Night had but just conquered, and closed her blue vaulted 
 windows against the day, when he perceived from his watch 
 a bright flame shoot up from an open plain in the midst of the 
 village, which rapidly increased in magnitude, until it became 
 
WAB-DANOEr^SOirO OF THE INDIAN WIDOW. 183 
 
 an immense bonfire, and the hills around and the heavens were 
 broadly illuminated by its glare. About this pyramid of fire he 
 could plairtly see the gathering of a body of warriors, painted 
 in the most hideous manner, and decked in their most showy 
 trappings ; and soon he becamed horrified as the well-known 
 war-whoop broke on his ear, and he saw them engage in the 
 frightful pageant of the war-dance. Only a portion of the actors 
 were visible to him at once. They passed before him in seg- 
 ments, as in their mazy evolutions they circled around the 
 fire ; and their forms, in relief against the glowing pyre, their 
 flashing weapons, and all the minutiae of their bedeckments 
 and movements, were visible, and defined with a terrible dis- 
 tinctness to his eye. They leaped, they whirled, they mixed 
 together pell-mell, cutting and slashing with their tomahawks 
 and knives ; they grappled — the infuriated warrior would ap- 
 pear to single out his foe, would leap upon him,,and seem to 
 sheathe his weapon in his heart, and tear his scalp from his 
 head — while the air was rent with their yells ; the fearful cry 
 to the onset mingling and dying away in the triumphal shouts 
 of an imaginary victory. 
 
 The picture was complete ; not only a graphic representa- 
 tion of an Indian battle, but, as Warwick well knew, was in- 
 tended to shadow forth scenes in which the actors themselves 
 expected soon to be engaged. The danger to Don Manuel 
 and his party, he perceived, was not only imminent, but im- 
 mediate ; and with a restless anxiety he turned again to exam- 
 ine the strength and fastenings of his prison door. The ath- 
 letic savage who had at first been placed over him as a guard, 
 he discovered, was no longer there. His place was filled by 
 an aged Indian, who was sitting some paces away, engrossed 
 in the contemplation of the exciting pageant without. War- 
 wick placed his shoulder cautiously against the door, but it 
 resisted his efforts ; and then, for the twentieth time perhaps, 
 he took the round of bis cell, in the hope to discover some 
 
184 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 point in the walls weak enough to justify a vigorous assault. 
 On the side opposite the door, his attention was arrested by a 
 low, plaintive sound ; and looking out he perceived an Indian 
 woman, whom he at once recognized as the wife of the mur- 
 dered brave, but few paces from him seated on a stone. She 
 had a babe in her arms ; and partly, as it seemed, as a lullaby 
 to her child, and partly to give vent to her feelings, she sung. 
 Warwick spoke to her, but though she must have heard him, 
 she made him no reply. She looked alternately on her babe 
 and upon the sky, in apparent abstraction from every thing 
 that was passing around her ; while with a voice of soft mel- 
 ody she murmured her passing thoughts in a most melancholy 
 strain. 
 
 " He is dead," said she ; " Helmo is dead — ^the warrior of 
 fifty battles is no more. 
 
 " He died not as the brave should die, in the midst of vic- 
 tory and the groans of his slain ; 
 
 " Or in defeat, when the ghosts of his enemies go before 
 him to the land of shades. 
 
 " He died by the treacherous hand of the white man, who 
 slew him like a d^, when he needed him no more. 
 
 " Helmo is gone : the light of my life, the sun of my morn- 
 ing and my noon. 
 
 " He is gone : and this bosom where his head rested from 
 toil is like the spring that is dry. 
 
 " He will not come back ; I shall see him never, till I meet 
 him in the land of shades. 
 
 " The cabin of Helmo is cold ; there is no smoke above it ; 
 the north wind whistles through its walls. 
 
 " No stranger may enter within ; it hath no longer meat, 
 even for his wife and son. 
 
WAR-DANCE— SONG OF TEE INDIAN WIDOW. 185 
 
 " The arm that reared it is broken ; his blanket hangs on 
 the wall : his hounds lie silent at the door ! 
 
 " His arrows will bring down no more deer ; his bear-skins 
 are given to the moths. 
 
 " His son will never know him ; he will call on his name, 
 and ask me in vain for his father. 
 
 " Then I will point him to the white man, and teach him the 
 revenge of a warrior. 
 
 " His young hand shall grasp the weapon of his sire ; he 
 shall drink deep of thewatsr of their hearts, 
 
 " My curse on the white man ! My curse on the pale face 
 that slew my buck ! My curse on his race ! 
 
 " Helmo was a great man ; he was a mighty brave ; in the 
 chase, in the battle, he was strong. 
 
 " In the surprise he was subtile as a fox : his eye was the 
 eye of a snake. 
 
 " He was still as the air that makes no noise ; he sprung 
 on his foe like the panther. 
 
 " Then he was terrible as the whirlwind ; his voice was the 
 voice of the clouds ; 
 
 " The blow of his hatchet, like the quick lightning ; the 
 touch of his knife, death. 
 
 " But in his lodge, Helmo was gentle as a fawn ; his voice 
 was a zephyr, and his eyes the eyes of the brown dove." 
 
 The Indian widow ceased singing, and Warwick addressed 
 her again ; but by no word or sign did she manifest that she 
 heard him. or was even aware of his vicinity. Failing thus 
 to arouse her attention, he commenced a low chant similar to 
 her own. The burden of his strain was as follows : 
 
 " The white and the red man are of the same blood ; they 
 are the handiwork of the same Great Spirit. 
 
18G CAMP FIRES OF TBS RED MEK 
 
 " There are brave men and good among both ; among both 
 are some treacherous and base. 
 
 " Then curse not all whites ; my sisters, pale daughters of 
 the east, 
 
 *' Would gladly comfort the dark widow in her grief, 
 
 " And mingle their tears with hers, till they fall like the 
 dew-drops of morning. 
 
 " Oh, curse them not ; curse not their brother ; and mourn 
 not too deeply ; 
 
 " Trouble comes like the wind to all, the white as well as 
 the red men. 
 
 " But his children the Great Spirit loves ; in his hand he 
 will hold and preserve them, 
 
 " There is grief with me too ; I'm a bird in a net ; my 
 crime is that God made me white. 
 
 " My mother has tears like thine ; go, tell her to weep for 
 her son !" 
 
 As Warwick concluded, the Indian woman arose quickly, 
 and laying her pappoose, bound up in its wicker-work cover- 
 ing, against the stone on which she had been sitting, she 
 passed without noise to the door of his prison, and softly undid 
 the fastenings. Stepping within, she laid her hand timidly on 
 his shoulder, and said : 
 
 " The door is open. Go, white man ! You could not have 
 slain the father of my boy. Go, lest your mother or your 
 wife or your sisters weep like the wife of Helmo. Go, that 
 they may look on the sky and see it bright ; that they may 
 taste of the air and the water, and find them sweet. This they 
 will do when he that they love is with them." 
 
 Penetrated with gratitude at the magnanimity of this poor 
 savage, and feeling a presentiment that under a state of 
 things very likely to occur he might possibly abuse it, for a 
 moment he hesitated to accept his freedom at her hands. But 
 
WAR'DANCE-SONQ OF THE INDIAN WIDOW. lb? 
 
 his indecision was of short duration. The dangers threaten- 
 ing Don Manuel, and the form of another, as pure and as full 
 of confiding faith as the dark native before him, exposed to 
 the peril of death, and other nameless horrors, rushed on his 
 mind so vividly as to overpower every other consideration. 
 He uttered his thanks to his deliverer in a few hasty words ; 
 and kissing her brown hand, as he bade her adieu, passed into . 
 the open air. The ancient savage, whose duty it was to 
 guard against an occurrence of this nature, was but too hap- 
 pily engrossed with objects in another direction ; the sights 
 and sounds, the flashing arms and notes of preparation, of his 
 people. For nothing else had he eyes or ears ; and War- 
 wick, perceiving his abstraction, aided his kind friend in 
 closing the door and readjusting its fixtures before taking his 
 departure. 
 
 Passing hastily to the rear of his late prison, he took a rapid 
 survey of the Indian forces, and their state of preparation ; 
 then, keeping within the shadow of the building, he lost no 
 time in pushing for the forest. The hurried glance he had 
 taken was sufficient to show him that the number of the war- 
 riors assembled very much exceeded the entire force of the 
 Onondagas ; and that, having finished their preliminary rites, 
 they were about getting under way. Well aware of the speed 
 with which, ranged in single file, their war-parties thread the 
 pathless woods, independent of the light of day, he felt the 
 necessity of dispatch in his own movements, and within a 
 A'ery short period had accomplished such a distance that he 
 ceased to hear the loudest reverberations of the war-whoop from 
 the hills ; and the whole of the startling occurrences of the 
 last few hours would at once have become food for memory 
 alone, had it not been that in the east were still perceptible 
 a cloud of accumulating and deepening vapor, and a red glow 
 upon the sky. 
 
Cl^autn Sito^ittj-fjofttr, 
 
 THE ATTACK. 
 
 *• But go and rouse your -warriorg, for If rlrtt 
 
 These old bewildered eyes could guess, by stgna 
 Of strlp'd and starred banners ou yon height 
 
 Of eastern cedars, o'er the creek of pines, 
 Some fort embattled by your country shines : 
 
 Deep roais the Innavigable gulf below 
 Its squared arch and palisaded lines. 
 
 Go ! seek the light its war-like beacons show, 
 While I in ambush wait for vengeance and the foe.' 
 
 THE ground covered by the Spanish camp, as we have 
 already taken occasion to observe, had been selected by 
 an experienced eye. It was, in truth, an elevated bluff of con- 
 sider-'.ble extent, bounded for two thirds of its circumference 
 by the Delaware River and the branch which there united with 
 it, dividing and forming for the two currents high, rocky, and 
 nearly perpendicular banks. Along the edge of these shores 
 extended the line of palisades, which, crossing the continuous 
 land on the north, from stream to stream, was there strength- 
 ened by a mound and ditch. From this b'reastwork, which 
 was indeed the only point of approach to the fortification, the 
 ground very gradually descended, increasing at the same time 
 in width as the course of the two rivers diverged from each 
 other ; and here, for some rods, the sparse trees and clumps 
 of laurel, and whatever else might serve as a shelter to an 
 enemy, had been cleared away. 
 
 It was now an hour or more past midnight, and the fortress, 
 save the drowsy sentinels, was wrapped in profound repose. 
 The moon rode high, and the white tents of the Spaniards 
 
THE ATTACK, 189 
 
 sparkled in its rays. The little block-house stood in their 
 midst, and far above all towered some two or three dead pines, 
 which, being large and near the center of the encampment, it 
 had been deemed unnecessary to disturb. These were the 
 only trees remaining on what could prcperlybe called the 
 bluff, and to the eye all else, except the river courses and the 
 bald brow of some hill in the distance, presented the appear- 
 ance of an interminable wood. A thick fog lay low on the 
 bosom of the rivers, which, with its leaden shades flashing in 
 the moonlight, looked like strata of variegated marble. There 
 was a gentle breeze stirring; and as the fog rapidly increased 
 in volume portions of it were borne upon the land, and mixing 
 with the trees rolled through the forest, and involved the en- 
 campment in its hazy folds, till the moon was shut out, and 
 every thing became mingled together in a dim and uncertain 
 light. 
 
 At this period a single Indian advanced a few paces from 
 the woods in front of the camp, and stretched his head forward 
 in an attitude of attention. Satisfied, to appearance, with his 
 observation, he withdrew again to the cover of the trees, and 
 bearing to the left, a short distance brought him to the shore 
 of the lesser river. Noiselessly he let himself down from 
 point to point of the craggy bank, until he found a precarious 
 footing nearly on a level with the water, and cautiously pass- 
 ing on he was soon abreast of the eastern line of the palisades. 
 Here he paused for a moment; but discovering nothing to oc- 
 casion alarm, with much toil he raised himself from one rocky 
 projection to another, until he nearly reached the base of the 
 fortification. Pausing again, his quick eye caught the outline 
 of a man almost directly above him, and at once he sunk down 
 against the rock, motionless as though he were a part of it. 
 The lonesome sentinel, meanwhile, unconscious of danger, to 
 relieve the tedium of his watch, and perhaps his restless 
 thoughts, which might have been dragging him in mind to his 
 
190 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEK 
 
 distant home, far away over the ocean, murmured rather than 
 sung some snatches of an old Moorish song. Soon, however, 
 he ceased, and yawning, cast a vacant eye above ; and turn- 
 ing partly around rested himself heavily on his musket. 
 
 The obscurity of the fog was still partial, but increasing, and 
 the savage remained stationary for some minutes. Shortly, 
 however, he was in motion again, and passing on horizontally 
 for a few paces, he drew himself up to a level with the pali- 
 sades, when, elevating his tall, gaunt person, he took a hasty 
 survey, so far as his sight could penetrate, of the works before 
 him. It was but a moment that he trusted himself in this ex- 
 posed position, but sinking to his knees, advanced still a few 
 feet farther, where, gaining his legs once more, he extended 
 his head boldly above the pickets. All was quiet. The 
 sentinels on either side of him, whose forms were just visible, 
 though awake to be sure, were dull and dreamy at their posts, 
 and evidently unsuspicious of evil ; and the wily savage, in- 
 sinuating his flexible body between the points, slid like an eel 
 slowly and silently over, and stood among the tents of his 
 enemies. 
 
 Although now pretty well sheltered from the hazard of de- 
 tection, the Indian relaxed nothing of his vigilance. Sinking 
 on his belly, he glided like a serpent on the ground ; now 
 motionless, as some sentry, by a change of position or a tap 
 of his musket, would indicate to his fellows the faithfulness 
 of his watch ; and again, on the move, but so sluggishly as to 
 deceive any one who was not near enough to take in the com- 
 pass of his shape. He stopped in the rear of a tent that stood 
 nearly in the center of the area, conspicuous from its size, 
 and which was in fact the one usually occupied by the prin- 
 cipal personages of the Spanish party. Listening a moment, 
 with the knife from his girdle he cut the cord which made 
 fast the canvas to the earth, and cautiously inserted his head 
 beneath the folds. Nothing gave evidence that any creature 
 
TEE ATTACK. 191 
 
 possessing life was there, except the hard breathing which 
 frequently accompanies deep sleep. Satisfied with his scru- 
 tiny he withdrew his head, and opening a small clay box, 
 secured in a case of willow twigs, which he bore in his hand, 
 he blew on the burning coal of touch-wood it contained, and 
 inserting a little bundle of matches of the pitch-pine, readily 
 produced a flame. He applied it to the canvas at several 
 points, and with the same noiseless precaution with which he 
 had advanced, retired to a less exposed situation in the rear of 
 the block-house to await the result. It was a brief space be- 
 fore the flames overcame the slight moisture of the cloth, and 
 gained a sufficient headway to attract the attention of the 
 sentinels. But when, as soon occurred, they shot upward, 
 and, magnified by the fog, presented the appearance of 
 several columns of phosphoric light, each left his post and 
 hastened to inquire into the nature of the phenomenon. 
 
 This was a moment awaited by the savage with intense 
 anxiety — the very pivot on which turned the success or fail- 
 ure of his plot. He stretched his long neck from the rear of 
 the cabin, where he lay like a snake in his coil, and beheld 
 with exultation that the fire had already communicated to the 
 adjoining tents, and doubted not, in the confusion which would 
 ensue, that victory would be easy. But at that instant a voice, 
 loud enough to awake every sleeper of the camp, broke on his 
 ear: " Hoa ! to arms! the Indians are upon you !" and the eye 
 of the savage caught the outline of a man, as Charles War- 
 wick, having scaled the trench and breastwork on the north, 
 notwithstanding a volley of balls and arrows from the woods, 
 alighted unharmed in the inclosure. At the same instant the 
 war-whoop burst from the forest, and was answered by a sound 
 as deep, the war-cry of Rollingbow of the Onondagas, in the 
 very center of the Spanish camp. 
 
 In making his way to the fortress of the whites, Warwick 
 had been subjected to irritating delays. He had found his 
 
192 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN, 
 
 path already occupied by advanced parties of the Indians, and 
 had been obliged to pick his way through them as best he 
 might ; and now, as he became aware that Rollingbow had 
 anticipated him in the march, and had even effected an 
 entrance into the encampment, his heart misgave him. Push- 
 ing forward, however, a brief survey was sufficient to inform 
 him of the true state of affairs. Suddenly aroused from sleep, 
 amid shouts, and flames, and mist, the Spaniards were con- 
 founded. Hastily collecting the first half dozen men he met, 
 Warwick led them to the defense of the breastwork, but again 
 found that the Onondaga was before him. The active chief, 
 aided by those without, had already succeeded in effecting a 
 breach, through which a score of savages were entering as 
 the American came up. Uttering a cry for succor, the whites 
 discharged their muskets, and clubbing them in their hands 
 rushed on their assailants. The foe recoiled, but encouraged 
 by the voice of Rollingbow and the small number of their op- 
 posers, immediately rallied again ; when, Don Manuel coming 
 up with a reinforcement, after a short and furious struggle, 
 they were finally driven back, and with yells of disappointed 
 rage sought the covert of the forest. Very shortly all sub- 
 sided into silence again, and the presumption was, that the 
 enemy, meeting with a warmer reception than they antici- 
 pated, had withdrawn. Hearty but hasty congratulations 
 passed between Don Manuel and Captain Warwick, and while 
 the former remained at the point of action to repair the breach 
 in his defenses, the American took the round of, the camp. 
 
 The night was now intensely dark. Such portions of the 
 burning tents as it had been found difficult to extinguish, were 
 pulled down and thrown in a mass together ; but the light 
 which the smoldering fragments sent forth was wholly in- 
 sufficient to dispel the gloom. The smoke rose heavily, or 
 hardly rising at all, mingled with the fog, and formed a dense 
 volume of vapor, which the eye in vain strove to penetrate 
 
THE ATTACK 193 
 
 Having seen that the sentinels were at their posts, Warwick 
 approached the fire, and as he did so, observed an Indian 
 snatch a brand from the mass ; and springing forward, he 
 perceived that it was Rollingbow. The chief no longer wore 
 the complacent countenance which Warwick had been accus- 
 tomed to see. He was naked to the waist, and disfigured 
 Avilh paint ; and yet the glaring colors — the spots and stripes 
 which covered the upper part of his person, and transformed 
 him into a demon, were only in keeping with the malignant 
 expression of his face. The fire was between them, and the 
 American had already elevated his pistol, before he recog- 
 nized the Onondaga in his altered form. Then, indeed, from 
 a very natural feeling, he paused ; and ere he could recover 
 from his surprise sufficiently to speak, the savage, dropping 
 his brand, disappeared. 
 
 But the star of the daring and successful Rollingbow was 
 on the wane. As he retired from the compassionate weapon 
 of his white adversary, for an instant his predominant caution 
 forsook him, and making a sudden turn to baffle pursuit, just 
 at the instant that the shouts of his warriors informed him 
 that they had renewed their attack on the Spanish outworks, 
 he unwarily, in the darkness, threw himself into the out- 
 stretched arms of Hugh O'Brady. The collision produced an 
 utterance of the slight guttural "Waugh!" from the Indian, 
 and the corresponding one of " Och !" from the Irishman, as 
 they met with a force, had it not been well balanced, sufficient 
 to have brought them both to the ground. O'Brady was a 
 muscular man, and a brave one, still he experienced certain 
 premonitory qualms as the withy limbs of the savage closed 
 around him ; and he felt within himself that the grapple was 
 one unto death. Nevertheless he brought his brawny arms 
 around his enemy, if not as quickly, with a right good-will, 
 and with such force as almost to suspend the function of his 
 breathing. Both dropped their muskets as useless incum- 
 
 9 
 
194 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 brances, and for the moment neither knife nor pistol could be 
 extricated, so that the struggle was solely one of limb to limb, 
 where each depended on his God, and the pillur of his own 
 strength. They raised upon each other, whirled and writhed 
 with interlocked limbs, and the whole exerted power of their 
 frames. The tall and supple Indian overtopped the Irishman 
 by a head ; but his body bent in every direction under the 
 sturdy strength of O'Brady ; still, with the agility of the 
 wildcat of his own hills, he would recover, and the less elas- 
 tic white would stagger under the sudden and unexpected 
 force of his rebounds. At length the contest seemed about 
 to terminate. The Indian was bent over nearly to the ground, 
 and the Irishman uppermost ; when, quickly dropping his knee 
 to the earth, and sustaining for an instant the whole weight 
 of his adversary, the savage shot upon his feet like an arrow, 
 and with a sudden whirl placed himself upon the prostrate 
 body of his opponent. It now indeed seemed all over with 
 Hugh. For the moment he was stunned, and his foe had 
 already succeeded in extricating his knife, and had raised it in 
 his hand to strike, when, with a last effort, O'Brady seized 
 him by the scalp-lock which hung from the top of his head, 
 and winding his arms around his neck, forced it down upon 
 his breast, where he held it with the strength and tightness 
 of a vice. The struggles of the Indian were desperate, but 
 ineffectual. He gave random blows witl^his weapon, which 
 grew weaker and weaker, till, at last, his muscles relaxed, 
 his limbs became pliant, and he lay motionless upon the body 
 of his fortunate adversary. 
 
 When Hugh O'Brady considered that his terrible antagonist 
 was actually dead, or if not dead, at least insensible, he cau- 
 tiously loosed his hold, and dragged himself out from beneath 
 the carcass, with the design of finishing his achievement with 
 a single blow ; when, at a bound, the wily chief was again on 
 his feet, possessed himself of his musket, and disappeared in 
 
TITE ATTACK. 195 
 
 the darkness. The Irishman gazed after him with a feeling 
 akin to his terror of the supernatural : but the noise of the 
 combat, the shouts of the assailants and assailed, were wax- 
 ing louder and louder ; he shook himself to ascertain if bone 
 and muscle still would play at will, groped till he found his 
 gun, and with a bluff oath and a whole heart advanced to the 
 support of his fellows in arms. 
 
 The Lady Viola, on this eventful night, was awakened by 
 the cry that gave notice to the sleepers of the camp that 
 their enemies were upon them. She knew the voice, but had 
 little time to reflect on the strangeness of its appearance there. 
 Rising in haste, she threw aside the hangings which divided 
 her apartment from that of her father, and entered his room. 
 Don Manuel was already on his feet, with his arms in his 
 hands. He drew his daughter to his breast and entreated her 
 to be calm ; when the shouts of the savages and the cry of 
 fire, coming to his ear, he placed his servant Solyman at the 
 door as a guard, and rushed out of the block-house. A dull 
 fire blazed on some stones in one corner of the cabin ; and 
 the smoke, slowly struggling through the moist atmosphere, 
 ascended in sluggish volumes, and escaped at an aperture left 
 for its egress, save such folds as lost their direction, and 
 rolled into the angle of the roof, filling it with fantastic and 
 shadowy wreaths. Viola cast a look of silent anguish around 
 as her father disappeared. She did not weep, but she trem- 
 bled, and her face was deadly pale. Turning to Solyman,' 
 she bade him leave her, and go out and look after the safety 
 of his lord. But the faithful menial knew his duty better. 
 He replied with words of cheer : and the attention of the 
 Lady Viola was immediately thereafter withdrawn to her 
 women, who rushed into her presence with all the frantic 
 behavior of ungovernable fear. She set herself to soothing 
 them, and became calm. 
 
 " Ruby," said she to that tall blue-eyed maiden, who stood 
 
196 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN". 
 
 apart from the rest, silently listening to the din and confusion 
 without, "you set us an example of fortitude to-night, wh.ch 
 we shall all do well to follow. Your father, too, is exposed 
 to the dangers of the battle, and still you are composed." 
 
 " Heaven save my father and my good mistress !" whispered 
 the girl in reply, with a slight Irish accent ; and the pallor of 
 her usually bright face sufficiently indicated the depth of 
 those feelings, the outward manifestation of which she pos- 
 sessed the strength of mind to repress. 
 
 Signor Antonio and Doctor Oquetos now entered the block- 
 house. 
 
 " Daughter," said the divine, addressing the Lady Viola, 
 " fear not ! Have no apprehension for the success of our 
 arms. The saints will not give us over to become an inherit- 
 ance to the heathen ; the Christian's God is with us, and we 
 shall conquer ! Solyman, child, what canst thou distinguish 
 without ? by the ear, I mean; for that wondrous organ, the 
 eye, is just now utterly useless." 
 
 " I hear, father," returned Solyman, " the yells of the sav- 
 ages. Now they grow fainter ; and now I hear the shouts of 
 victory from our defenders." 
 
 " Heaven be praised !" ejaculated the priest, holding up his 
 haxids. 
 
 " But my father !" said Viola. " Would that I were assured 
 of his safety ! Even a victory has its black shadows." 
 
 '*True," said the kind-hearted divine. "But our lord is 
 doubtless safe. God would not take him from us, in the wil- 
 derness of a foreign land, surrounded as we are by wolves. 
 And now thank our Latly, daughter, for I hear him approach- 
 ing." 
 
 The Lady Viola fervently raised her eyes to Heaven ; but 
 instead of the form of her father presenting itself at the door, 
 an Indian, with uplifted tomahawk, sprung upon Solyman. 
 But sudden as was the attack, the faithful attendant to whom 
 
THE ATTACK. 197 
 
 Don Manuel had confided the safety of his daughter, was not 
 taken by surprise. His pistol was swifter than the hatchet 
 of his foe ; and the dusky assailant drew back with a cry of 
 pain. But a moment after, Solyman himself staggered within, 
 pierced with an arrow. Signor Antonio and Doctor Oquetos 
 now rushed to the defense ; and the platoon of savages who 
 immediately assailed the entrance, found themselves unex- 
 pectedly and squarely blocked out by the pursy body of the 
 divine. With the worthy doctor a few paces behind him, as 
 a corps of reserve, the holy father, brandishing the sword of 
 the domestic in his hand, bade the enemy pause, and poured 
 out upon them a loud volley of characteristic imprecations. 
 
 The savages certainly did pause under the anathemas of 
 the priest, but whether from respect to his spiritual or his 
 physical powers, or merely from surprise at his unique figure 
 and mode of warfare, remains uncertain. The hesitation, how- 
 ever, was but for a moment ; and had there been no other 
 arms than those Signor Antonio and Doctor Oquetos opposed 
 to their progress, the result of the contest could not have been 
 doubtful. But from the time the drama began to thicken, from 
 the point where real danger declared itself, the maiden Ruby 
 had placed herself in advance of her companions, where all 
 unconsciously she stood iii a defiant attitude, like a hawk at 
 bay. Fortunately for those imperiled with her, an antique 
 blunderbuss which hung against the wall now caught her 
 eye ; and quick as thought she snatched it down ; and resting 
 its heavy brass barrel on the shoulder of the divine, discharged 
 its contents of grape-shot, full in the faces of the foe. With 
 yells of pain and rage they retreated. 
 
 The Lady Viola, meanwhile, with her women had retired 
 to the farther extremity of the block-house. The struggle at 
 the entrance was hardly completed by the exploit of the he- 
 roic Irish girl, when she discovered the buskined feet of an 
 Indian protruding through the aperture in the roof ; and before 
 
198 CAMP FIRES OF TEE BED MEN". 
 
 she could think of fleeing or giving an alarm, he had leaped 
 down, and stood before her in all the terror of a savage war- 
 rior. Though in paint, and trappings, and arms, nothing was 
 lacking, still it was evident at a glance that age could hardly 
 elevate the intruder to the dignity of a man. Indeed, though 
 he aped the warrior well, he could not have numbered more< 
 than seventeen summers : and as he paused for a moment 
 within a few paces of the defenseless and shrinking Viola, 
 giving her opportunity to remark his extreme youth, it could 
 not be but that a ray of hope should be gathered from the 
 circumstance. The language of nature is intelligible to all. 
 The Lady Viola spoke, but louder by her posture, her inno- 
 cence and her beauty, than by her voice. Her face and 
 hands uplifted to Heaven, rather than to her enemy, were 
 white as the snow of his hills ; and as her soft tones fell on 
 his ear, and her eyes were again lowered to his, he still 
 paused, and his features relaxed into an expression of min- 
 gled admiration and pity. But his weapon remained uplifted, 
 and the struggle with his nature seemed yet of doubtful issue, 
 when he was felled to the ground by a strong arm from be- 
 hind ; and Charles Warwick, springing forward, caught the 
 drooping flower of Spain in his arms. 
 
THE EEPULSE ; AND DEATH OF ROLLINGBO"?r, 
 
 " A scene of death ; where fires — 
 And blended arms, and white pavilions glow." 
 
 WHEN the Indians were expelled from the Spanish works, 
 after their first temporary success, the chief Rollingbow, 
 with several of his warriors, in the darkness and confusion, 
 slipped aside, and remained within the fortificatioUi The 
 events which befell them, and the mischief they came near 
 accomplishing, are already known. Fortunate was it for the 
 inmates of the block-house that Warwick, soon after losing 
 sight of the Onondaga, in the patrol he kept up from point to 
 point, and his search after the cunning savage, who, he sus- 
 pected, was still in the camp, stumbled on the cabin, in season 
 to finish the good work which Solyman and Ruby O'Brady 
 had so well begun. As he supported the Lady Viola in his 
 arms, he whispered a few words of kind greeting in her ear, 
 promised her protection, and assured her of the safety of her 
 father. From her he turned to the young savage, who, 
 stunned by the blow he had received, was lying at his feet ; 
 and calling for a rope, he bound his arms, and led him away 
 to an opposite corner of the room, where the boy vsunk down 
 like a vanquished spaniel, and hung his head in sullen silence. 
 Warwick next dispatched Doctor Oquetos, much against 
 the private wishes of that gentleman, to Don Manuel for a file 
 of men, both to protect the block -house and to guard the pris- 
 oner. The detachment soon made its appearance headed by 
 
200 CAMP FIBES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 the veteran Hugh O'Brady ; and Signor Antonio, who with 
 most exemplary courage had continued to maintain his posi- 
 tion in the door-way, though the big drops of sweat were roll- 
 ing from his broad face in no moderate shower, was accord- 
 ingly relieved. Having thus provided for the safety of the 
 Lady Viola and her women, and committed the wounded Sol- 
 yman into the hands of Doctor Oquetos, Warwick, with, a 
 lighter heart than he had known for some days, proceeded 
 again to do duty at the ramparts. 
 
 He found Don Manuel and his men resolutely defending the 
 shattered works against a series of irregular attacks, which 
 were prosecuted in a darkness so profound, that it was quite 
 impossible to distinguish an enemy at two paces' distance. 
 The plans of the Indians had evidently been broken. At one 
 moment, with terrifying shouts, they would let fly a volley of 
 balls and arrows, from the effects of which, though sheltered 
 by their embankment, the Spaniards were not always so fortu- 
 nate as to escape. This perhaps would be succeeded by a 
 complete silence, encouraging for a time the delusive notion 
 that the enemy had withdrawn. But this state of suspense, 
 less endurable indeed than active warfare, would be broken 
 by a sudden call for succor at some unexpected point, where 
 the subtile savages, with characteristic stillness and dexteritv, 
 had already secured a footing. From these successes they 
 were not always easily dislodged, but maintained any mo- 
 mentary advantage they might gain with a dogged tenacity 
 which nothing but the swift bolts of death, or the grasp of the 
 whites, hurling them down from the breastwork, were able to 
 overcome. 
 
 Thus passed a period of near two hours from the time of 
 the first assault ; and the Spaniards, harassed with their in- 
 cessant and trying duties, ardently longed for day. Thus far 
 the attacks had been confined to the front or north line of the 
 defenses ; and, indeed, the river sides had been considered 
 
THE REPULSE. 201 
 
 nearly, if not entirely, inaccessible. But now a sentinel at 
 the right gave the alarm ; the cries of the savages at the same 
 time, and from the same quarter, broke upon the night ; and si- 
 multaneously their shouts and their volleys were renewed along 
 the whole front. It was obvious that they had hazarded a 
 double assault. Reinforcements were at once dispatched to 
 the new point of danger ; and amid the uproar and confu- 
 sion that ensued, the shouts of the assailants and the assailed, 
 the explosion of fire-arms and the clang of steel, no one noted 
 the hurried despairing cries for succor from a still different 
 part of the lines, though caught up and echoed by the iron 
 lungs of Hugh O'Brady. At length the watchful ear of War- 
 wick Caught the voice of the Irishman, and with a handful of 
 followers he rushed to the block-house. There he found all 
 safe, but by the direction of Hugh he proceeded to the Dela- 
 ware side of the encampment, where his arrival was oppor- 
 tune indeed. A half dozen whites were there holding at bay 
 more than twice their number of the enemy ; and he at once 
 perceived that the fortress had" come near falling by a feint of 
 the cunning foe. While the attention of the besieged had been 
 distracted and turned in other directions, silently they had 
 scaled the precipitous height, taken the sentinels by surprise, 
 and by the time Warwick and his party arrived, had secured 
 a foothold which they were evidently determined to maintain 
 The frail fence of stakes was broken down ; and each sav- 
 age as he gained the top of the bank, stood on a fair field for 
 combat, his retreat cut ofi", and hope alone in victory. 
 
 Adding his cry for succor to the thousand sounds of the night, 
 Warwick and his followers joined in the melee. But destruc- 
 tion being in their rear, the Indians stood their ground and 
 fought with a desperate bravery worthy of the fame of their 
 Confederacy. At this closing hour of the contest, the knife 
 and tomahawk of the red man drank its due proportion of 
 blood. But despite their determirmte courage, it ere long be-: 
 
 9* 
 
202 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 came evident that success was beyond their reach. Addi- 
 tional reinforcements arrived, and they w^ere shortly hemmcv 
 in by a circular phalanx, which they found it impossible to 
 break. They wavered ; they were forced back closer and 
 closer upon the brink of the precipice ; but as they showed no 
 pity, so they asked no quarter ; and the Spaniards, irritated by 
 their obstinacy, and smarting with their own wounds, became 
 as merciless and savage as themselves. They hurled the 
 miserable wretches down the gulf, up which with such incon- 
 ceivable toil and daring they had managed to climb. But the 
 places of those who fell were at once supplied by others, who, 
 as they gained the height, sprung upon their feet, and raised 
 their battle-cry, and shrunk not from a like fate in their turn. 
 They shouted as they struck once more for revenge, when 
 the hope of victory was no longer left them; they shouted as 
 they fell — and their yells rung in the air as they plunged 
 through the thick gloom down the precipice ; where their end 
 was announced by the dull sullen sounds which came up from 
 the invisible crags below. But that revenge, so sweet to the 
 Indian, even in defeat and destruction, was not wholly un- 
 gratified. Several of the Spaniards were killed. Some of 
 ^ the more resolute of the savages preferred to meet death in 
 the warm grapple ; and knife in hand gave it, or received it, 
 in the close embrace; while one Herculean warrior, as he 
 perceived that his hour had come, seized the foeman who was 
 pressing him too closely, aiid with him in his arms, hugged 
 to his bosom, leaped down the black and cavernous abyss. 
 
 While these horrid scenes were in progress, amid the cries 
 and shrieks and noise of fire-arms which arose on all sides of 
 the camp, there was one voice that pealed above all other 
 sounds, and reached the ears of all. It seemed overhead in 
 the air; and many a Spaniard, as he Jjeard that prolonged, 
 wild echoing cry to the onset, experienced a thrill of terror, 
 lest it might be the genius or the demon of the people with 
 
THE BEPVLSE. 203 
 
 <vhom he was warring, resting on the mysterious cloud which 
 enveloped them, and urging on the battle. Again and again 
 it rung, and was accompanied by an explosion, as of a mus- 
 ket, which would shake the atmosphere above the combatants ; 
 and to each one of these wondrous war-cries and reports the 
 savages would reply with answering shouts, and an impetuous 
 renewal of their unavailing efforts. 
 
 But now it was that a sight became visible, which sus- 
 pended the work of slaughter, and, for a time, held every 
 faculty of the beholders in mute amazement. The wind, 
 which for some minutes had been freshening, suddenly swept 
 down from the north, and in an instant, as it were, rolled back 
 upon the river, like a curtain, the dense canopy of fog which 
 had shrouded the bluff, bringing into view, as though by a 
 stroke of magic, in the center of the encampment, the tall, 
 ragged body of a dry pine, already for fifty feet of its height a 
 dazzling pillar of flame ; and far above, in bold relief against 
 the sky, the outline of a human form. A murmur of horror, 
 hardly louder than the breathing in a troubled dream, run 
 through both ranks of the opposing forces, who, but a moment 
 before, had stood braced against each other in the strife, re- 
 joicing in the destruction which they dealt. 
 
 Whoever it might be on the tree, he was aware of his 
 danger ; and when first perceived, was urging his way down 
 to the bottom ; but the subtile element, like the tongue of a 
 serpent, lapped itself round the inflammable trunk, and spring- 
 ing from knot to knot, and arm to arm, seemed likely to meet 
 him half-way, when, turning from the furnace beneath, he 
 sought a present respite in the top, which towered like an 
 enormous mast to the height of a hundred and fifty feet. It was 
 then that Warwick recognized the features, and pronounced 
 the name of Rollingbow. The word was echoed by the 
 Indians, who simultaneously made a movement in advance, 
 but were borne back by the weapons of the Spaniards, and 
 
204 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 obliged to remain inactive spectators, without the ability to 
 attempt the rescue of their chief. Indeed, what could be 
 done ? Hopefess, utterly, did the task appear, and each one 
 read in the hasty and troubled glance of his neighbor that the 
 doom of the proud Onondaga was sealed — that the whole 
 power and appliances of earth would not suffice to extricate 
 him from his impending fate. Opinions like these were just 
 beginning to find a whispered utterance, when the young 
 Indian, whom we left a prisoner in the block-house, rushed 
 forward, and extending his manacled arms on high, called 
 upon his father ! 
 
 The appeal w^as electric, and aroused the inventive ener- 
 gies of the spectators. There was another tree standing 
 within some fifteen feet of that, which now, for more than 
 half its height, was a column of fire ; and Warwick, with a 
 sudden thought, sought out among the timbers which lay scat- 
 tered around, a pole of sufficient length to extend from the one 
 to the other, and of a strength to sustain the weight of a man. 
 Divesting himself of his upper garments, and with a blow re- 
 leasing the son of Rollingbow from his bonds, he slung the 
 pole to his own back with a cord and commenced the ascent. 
 The youth, at once comprehending his plan, threw himself on 
 the trunk beneath, and followed. 
 
 While these preparations were in progress, the one for 
 whose benefit they were intended exhibited no interest what- 
 ever in the result. The brightness of the fire below rendered 
 him so minutely visible, that every motion, even, as it seemed, 
 to the swelling of a muscle, was discernible from the ground. 
 He stood on a small limb near the pinnacle of the tree, and 
 sought no oth*er support than what he gained by slightly lean- 
 ing against the taper and spear-like trunk, which hardly 
 extended above his head. His face and naked bust, stained 
 with those variegated hues and figures which register the 
 achievements, and, at the same time, add so greatly to the 
 
THE REPULSE. 205 
 
 terror inspired by the Indian warrior, were calm and still. 
 No emotion was perceptible, no twitching or shrinking of the 
 flesh, no heaving of the chest. His eye was placid, and 
 mostly fixed upon the sky ; and the only movement, save his 
 composed breathing, was that of the lips, as a low guttural 
 chant came down -on the winds, which was the death-song of 
 the Onondaga. 
 
 With the gazing multitude, from the moment that Warwick 
 and the young Indian commenced their hazardous attempt, all 
 was a noiseless and breathless suspense ; and it now became 
 painfully intense, as the development of a moment would dem- 
 onstrate their failure or success. The youth shouted to his 
 father to descend a few feet, and secure the timber as they 
 should extend it to him ; but the old chief moved not, and, if 
 he heard at all, he gave no evidence of it. The whole host 
 of the two embattled lines shouted, but with no better success ; 
 and each one raised himself on tiptoe, as Warwick elevated 
 the pole and projected it over upon a cragged arm of the burn- 
 ing tree, which it was designed should receive and support 
 one of its extremities. The descending timber struck several 
 inches from the trunk, the limb gave way, and both fell 
 through the sparkling furnace to the ground together. A uni- 
 versal groan unconsciously escaped from the bosoms of the 
 spectators, as this their only and frail hope was so effectually 
 crushed, and each disposed his mind, as best he could, to await 
 the catastrophe. 
 
 A period of but a few minutes elapsed from the time that 
 the situation of the chief was discovered, before the flames, 
 encouraged in their upward tendency by the pitch which was 
 plentifully mingled with the light tinder of the surface of the 
 tree, reached their unfortunate victim. Still he moved not — 
 not even when the lambent tongues curled round his body — 
 nor until the scorching element had completely enveloped him 
 in its folds,- wlien, like the spirit of fire, he seemed to exult in 
 
206 CAMP FIBES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 the black clouds and red whirlwinds which surrounded him, 
 and throwing out his arms, pealed forth his last battle-cry, 
 sprung into the air, and descended like a flaming thunderbolt 
 to the ground. 
 
 An armistice had been virtually declared by the interest 
 which both parties had taken in the melancholy fate of Rolling- 
 bow, and now neither seemed dhsposed to the renewal of the 
 contest. The thirst for blood was slaked, the appetite for 
 carnage glutted ; and the Indians, sadly and silently, set about 
 collecting their dead, in which they were assisted by the 
 softened Spaniards. The fire, which they themselves had 
 kindled for the destruction of the sleeping whites, lighted them 
 in their woful search in the trenches and among the rocks, until 
 the majestic pine, the last victim of the element, hastened to 
 its finale by the axe, and the application of pikes to direct it 
 in its descent, tottered and fell, with a broad sheet of flame, 
 and the noise and jar of the thunder. The few prisoners that 
 the Spaniards had taken were released, and the gray of the 
 morning was just looking in from the east, when the wild men 
 of the woods, bearing their dead with them, and among them 
 the body of their chief, sullenly retired from the scene of the 
 late conflict. But as they went, a wild and most melancholy 
 wail came back upon the winds. 
 
^ttx Stontg-si^^ 
 
 THE PRISONER. DOCTOR OQUETOS AND THE ■WOUNDED. 
 
 ' Ah, woman ! In this world of ours, 
 
 What gift can be compared to thee ? 
 How slow would drag life's weary hours, 
 Though man's proud brow were bound with flowen. 
 
 And his the wealth of land and sea, 
 If destined to exist alone. 
 And ne'er call woman's heart his own !" 
 
 THE Lady Viola had looked on the closing scenes of the 
 drama of the night with a woman's terror and a woman's 
 interest. So rapid had been the changes, and so absorbing 
 in their nature, that as Warwick left her side, his momentary 
 presence, and the words he uttered, as well as the danger 
 from which he had rescued her, and the events which pre- 
 ceded his coming, seemed rather like the vagaries of a dream 
 than a reality. But substantial evidences of the fray were 
 before her ; and summoning with a strong effort her scattered 
 energies, she proceeded to look into the condition of her 
 wounded domestic. She found him reclining by the side of 
 the doorway ; and with the arrow still sticking in his body, 
 and his head supported by the faithful Ruby, he was patiently 
 awaiting his fate, whatever it might prove. His eye caught 
 that of his mistress as she approached, and though he had 
 shed his best blood in her defense, and perhaps given her his 
 life, his features lighted up with an expression of deep grati- 
 tude for the interest she manifested in his behalf. But Doctor 
 Oquetos was already by the side of the suffering man, with 
 his instruments; and the Lady Viola had hardly turned away 
 
208 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 when she had the satisfaction of receiving the announcement, 
 that the flint-headed missile was safely extracted, and that 
 though it had made a cut in the poor fellow like the gash of a 
 spear, the wound was by no means mortal. 
 
 During the fierce struggle at the outworks which succeeded, 
 the Lady Viola and her women, having recovered from the 
 first shock of terror, busied themselves in the preparation of 
 bandages and other comforts for the wounded. While thus 
 occupied, Viola's attention was occasionally directed toward 
 the prisoner, who remained nearly motionless in the position 
 where he had been placed ; but she observed that his eye 
 seemed to seek her out and follow her in all her movements. 
 But his features, so far as she could perceive through the dis- 
 guise of the colors which distorted them, had lost all traces of 
 ferocity, and were now characterized by the mild and inno- 
 cent expression of a child. He, indeed, started as that strange 
 war-cry from above first struck his ear — but those wild battle- 
 tones startled all who heard them — and a moment after the 
 youth was calmer than those who watched him. By-and-by 
 she noticed that his eyes were turned to the opening in the 
 roof, throtigh which he had entered, with an all -engrossing 
 interest, which soon amounted to agony, when, springing from 
 the floor, with a shriek of horror, he darted past his guard and 
 vanished from the cabin. A moment more and those who re- 
 mained became aware of the cause. 
 
 They saw him next as in conjunction with Warwick, he made 
 the desperate attempt to save the life of his father. At the cul- ■ 
 mination of that event, he stood on a lofty arm of the tree which 
 he had ascended, and, on the failure of the effort, became so 
 fully identified in feeling with the object he would succor, that, 
 as his parent let go his hold and sprung, he threw up his own 
 arms, and hardly recovered his identity in season to save him- 
 self from accompanying him in his descent. As he came down 
 from the tree, and stood like a statue gazing at the blackened 
 
AFTER THE BATTLE. 209 
 
 and shapeless corse of his father, the Lady Viola and many 
 others regarded him with compassion and with tears : and 
 there still he stood gazing, until the Indians finally lifted the 
 body to depart, when mechanically he followed them away. 
 
 Thankful that in the midst of so much distress and deso- 
 lation her own parent still remained to her, with a full heart 
 Viola sought him ; and while for a moment she was pressed to 
 his breast, the one who shared next in her anxiety, Captain 
 Warwick, passed into the block-house. The American, though 
 he had remained on active duty to the last, was numbered 
 among the wounded. He now, accordingly, submitted him- 
 self into the hands of Doctor Oquetos, who at once proceeded 
 to an investigation of his case. 
 
 We are apprehensive that the reader, from some expressions 
 hastily dropped during the progress of this work, may have 
 imbibed, to some extent, an erroneous impression with respect 
 to the erudite Doctor Oquetos. If so, it is a duty we take 
 great pleasure in performing, to set the matter right. Doctor 
 Emanuel Oquetos, then, though by no means a Gengis-Khan, 
 or a Solomon, was, nevertheless, a very respectable prac- 
 titioner of physic and surgery for the age in which he flour- 
 ished. He was educated at Salamanca ; and what was of far 
 more value in his profession, had had the advantages of English 
 practice. He had been much about the world, and being 
 withal a bachelor of fifty, had had much leisure hanging on 
 his hands, which he had devoted, in a great degree, to serious 
 reflection ; or, as he would have expressed it, to profound in- 
 vestigations into the hidden recesses of nature, not excepting 
 the secret and unfathomable caverns of his own, or the human 
 mind. Thus he had projected several brilliant theories, the 
 truth of which — they never having been tested — who will 
 take it upon him to gainsay ? He had also, during his sub- 
 lunar pilgrimage, done something more than invent mere 
 theories, which were never destined to be put in practice : he 
 
210 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 had won a fl&iH« in the field of letters. An ardent devotee to 
 the sublime mysteries of his profession, while yet compara- 
 tively a young onan, he had published a treatise, which made 
 some noise at the time, at least in the " Salamanca Gazette ;" 
 not on the calculus, nor yet the differential calculus, but on 
 meteoric stones ; embracing a new theory of the formation of 
 the earth and the solar system. At a later period, when, as 
 would naturally be supposed, his mind had become less er- 
 ratic and filled with the wisdom of years, like the savans of 
 the French school of medicine, he knelt before the muses ; 
 not that he might pour forth in bad verses his professional 
 lucubrations, but that he might, as in due time came to pass, 
 confer on the world a score or two of amatory Spanish lyrics. 
 Soon after the consummation of this last event, it was, that 
 Don Manuel Torrillo went out to Mexico ; and receiving the 
 recommendation of the President of the University of Sala- 
 manca, who had been made to figure somewhat conspicuously 
 in a Latin inscription to his book of poems, Doctor Oquetos 
 became appended to the expedition as its man of medicine. 
 
 When, therefore, Charles Warwick submitted himself into 
 the hands of the learned doctor, it was with a confidence some- 
 what proportioned to that dignitary's high reputation ; and so 
 the professional gentleman himself considered it. He accord- 
 ingly proceeded to an investigation of the case with a mind 
 quite at ease, and acquitted himself to his own and his 
 patient's entire satisfaction. He first made some general in- 
 quiries, and then adjourned to his own tent, not doubting that 
 for the remainder of his morning duties his usual quarters 
 would be sufliciently secure. He then proceeded expe- 
 ditiously with the dressing, which he performed well and 
 skillfully, violating, however, as he did so, several of his own 
 well-grounded canons of practice. But Doctor Oquetos is but 
 another example from a class of very profound persons, who 
 carry one set of rules in their heads and another in the^r fingers. 
 
AFTER THE BATTLE. 211 
 
 When he had placed the last bandage, he gave his patient 
 a cooling draught, and recommending rest and pertinacious 
 quiet for a few days, promised him, if his directions were fol- 
 lowed, a speedy return to strength and health. Thereupon 
 Warwick tottered out of the tent ; and the light of the morn- 
 ing being still indistinct, and every one occupied, he proceeded 
 to a point in the outworks least liable to observation, and bid- 
 ding a sad mental adieu to the fortress and all it contained, let 
 himself out and departed. 
 
 Day found the Spaniards in a sorrowful plight. The ex- 
 citement of the defense ; the sights and sounds and necessi- 
 ties of battle were no longer there ; and in their place were 
 bodily exhaustion, the groans of the wounded, and the pale, 
 disfigured faces of the dead. But Don Manuel was too good 
 a soldier to suffer his own energies to flag, or those of his 
 men, at such a time as this. He remained in their midst, di- 
 recting and encouraging them ; and not until the disabled had 
 been attended to, the slain gathered and placed in a condition 
 of decent repose, and the shattered works measurably re- 
 paired, did he think of rest for himself. Then, indeed, he 
 proceeded to the block house and inquired for Captain War- 
 wick. Not finding him there, and learning then for the first 
 time that he was wounded, and perceiving that his daughter 
 had worked herself into a condition of considerable alarm on 
 his account, Don Manuel proceeded to the quarters of Doctor 
 Oquetos. Of him he learned that the American officer, having 
 had his wounds properly cared for, left his tent, something 
 more than an hour before, in a very feeble and feverish con- 
 dition. A painful suspicion of the truth flashed across the 
 mind of the Spaniard, which he hastened to dissipate or con- 
 firm. He was soon satisfied that Warwick was no longer in 
 the camp ; and furthermore, from the account the physician 
 had given of his injuries, he felt equally certain that if the 
 too scrupulous youth had succeeded in dragging himself so 
 
212 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 far into the forest as not to be recovered, he would inevitably 
 perish. Full of distressing apprehensions, he at once insti- 
 tuted a search ; and it vv^as not long before the object of his 
 solicitude was discovered, within ten rods of the encampment, 
 lying senseless on the ground. He was borne back into the 
 block-house, and Doctor Oquetos again summoned to his 
 presence. 
 
 If Don Manuel still needed evidence of the condition of 
 his daughter's affections, it was now vouchsafed him. The 
 Lady Viola had sustained herself through the multiplied hor- 
 rors of the night, if not with unyielding strength, at least with 
 a fortitude which on no occasion had wholly deserted her : 
 and now, as the young officer was borne into her presence, 
 she did not shrink, and neither did she fling herself in uncon- 
 trollable woe upon the body of him she supposed to be dead, 
 and in truth so ardently loved. She uttered no sound, but 
 turning to retire, her limb^ refused their office, and she 
 withered far more quickly than does one of her own native 
 lilies when exposed to the scorching sirocco. 
 
 A few anxious minutes supervened, and both Warwick and 
 Viola were restored to animation : the one to a state of weak 
 and feverish existence ; and the other, though she strove bard 
 to conceal her feelings, to a condition little more enviable. 
 Don Manuel saw the workings of her mind, but could not 
 chide her. 
 
OONTALBSCSNCEt SIXQULAR DISPLAY OF AFFECTION ON THE PART OP 
 NATIVE. 
 
 " No I not the dog that watched toy household hearth 
 
 Escaped that night of blood, upon our plains 1 
 All perished ! I alone am left on earth I 
 To whom nor relative nor blood remains, 
 No ! not a kiudred«drop that runs in human veins 1" 
 
 CHARLES WARWICK slowly recovered. His injuries 
 themselves were not serious ; but profuse loss of blood, 
 the unnatural exertions to which he had subjected himself 
 after receiving them, and the unquiet condition of his mind, 
 produced a fever and subsequent prostration which time and 
 care could alone dispel. Don Manuel watched over him with 
 the kindness and interest of a parent ; and while he lay but 
 partially conscious of what was transpiring around him, he 
 was nevertheless fully aware that the Lady Viola was near ; 
 that her soft hands moved his pillow and bathed his burning 
 head, and performed for him a thousand nameless offices, 
 which woman alone can apprehend. She seemed to him like 
 a beautiful flitting shadow, an angel of love and hope and 
 comfort; and sometimes when his fever was high, and his 
 mind wandering, with her by his side, in an ecstasy of de- 
 light he would soar quite away from the earth, and bask him- 
 self, like a spirit, in the emerald fields and gossamer groves 
 which lie among the dun and yellow clouds. And when he 
 became better, was able to converse, and needed to be amused, 
 slae was still with him, ready to talk, or read, or sing, as best 
 comported with his humor or his strength. 
 
214 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 But the task that the Lady Viola had imposed upon her- 
 self was a severe one. When the period of suspense was 
 over, when the recovery of her charge was pronounced no 
 longer doubtful, she was startled and alarmed at the condition 
 of her feelings. Her anxious watching over the sick bed of 
 their object had shown her their intensity and depth. She 
 called it her weakness, and resolved, like more than a Spar- 
 tan daughter, to overcome it. She was now, therefore, 
 to fulfill the duties of a friend and a nurse, to cheer her 
 patient on to health again, and at the same time to root 
 out from her own breast those kindlier sentiments, those 
 native flowers of the heart, which unbidden had sprung 
 into being, and almost unnoticed had already attained strength 
 and luxuriance both of leaf and blossom. Why did she not 
 succeed ? There was no word of love spoken between them ; 
 and both were well aware that the passion could alone be in- 
 dulged at a mutual and fearful hazard, at the peril of all their 
 hopes in the future. But the eye ! it refuses to be chained ; 
 and in spite of prude Ace or effort it betrays the soul. The 
 tongue can deceive, but the eye is the window of the mind ; 
 and secrets that the lips refuse to tell are unwarily uttered in - 
 a glance. Besides, the soul hath knowledge of its own, 
 which the tongue could not shape words to utter if it would. 
 From the moment that Warwick bore the fair Andalusian drip- 
 ping from the water, he had been conscious in the depths of 
 ■ his heart that a chain dark or bright, bound them together; 
 but even now the strength and perpetuity of this chain were 
 far from being realized in his external thoughts. 
 
 It is probable, nay, certain, that a similar consciousness had 
 existed with the Lady Viola ; and hence, though the lan- 
 guage of love was unused between them, they understood 
 each other as perfectly as though their mutual feelings ha^ 
 been canvassed a hundred times. Though in this knowledge 
 there was much of pain, though the future was nearly hope- 
 
THE S-> V OF ROLUiYGBOW. 2' 4 
 
 less, and compassion for each other wrung the very chords o£ 
 life, there was still in the simple consciousness of loving ap^ 
 being loved, aside from all else, a fount of consolation and of 
 joy, which paled all other pleasures, and threw all other aspi 
 rations in the shadow. 
 
 Don Manuel was often present ; and sometimes as the 
 brooding clouds of their evil destiny were for the time forgot- 
 ten, and they gave themselves up to the unalloyed enjoyment 
 of the hour, he would sit and gaze on them in silence, with 
 an expression of mingled sadness and affection, when sud- 
 denly starting up, he would take a restless turn or two across 
 the room and seek the open air. And Warwick ! was he in- 
 deed giving himself up to a dream of the delights of life 1 
 He loved ; and at one moment was buoyant with hope, for his 
 young spirits refused always to be chained down ; but the 
 next he was chilled with despair. At times he bitterly cnrsed 
 himself as one who had crossed the path of an innocent girl, 
 and darkened the prospects of her life, and continued to pur- 
 sue her, regardless of her welfare or his own. But generally 
 he was able to look upon his actions in a better light. When 
 he coolly examined them, he was unable to perceive that he 
 had done any thing which a strict sense of integrity and drfty 
 would not have enjoined. He loved the Lady Viola, and 
 who should blame him 1 She was in danger, and he had de- 
 fended her. The end of the fatal passion which he found it 
 impossible to conquer, and still was determined to control, he 
 did not pretend to foresee. When in a hopeful frame, he 
 looked up with trust to the great Architect of events ; but 
 when desponding, he was apt to feel that there was no Provi- 
 dence for him. He was also much of a philosopher, and put 
 great faith in the retributive nature of human actions. This 
 was well, if he could only look on far enough to see that this 
 and Providence are in reality the same thing. Again, as he 
 found himself on the verge of desperation, he would break 
 
216 CAMP FTHES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 away per force from the conflict of his feelings into a quieter 
 atmosphere, and say, " Time is the great parent of events. 
 In her womb are all things future hidden. She will evolve 
 my destiny." 
 
 In his conversations with Warwick, Don Manuel took an. 
 early opportunity to refer to their unpleasant separation on the 
 Hudson. He apologized very frankly for his rudeness on 
 that occasion ; and in doing so gave the American, perhaps, 
 a farther insight into his sentiments than he had intended. In 
 speaking of Don Ferdinand de Cassino, he did not succeed in 
 concealing a growing disgust for that individual, which became 
 still more pointedly evident as he alluded to the union of that 
 gentlemen with his daughter. He spoke of the event, however, 
 as one likely to occur ; but Warwick saw that his heart re- 
 volted, and refused to keep time with his words. It was well 
 understood that the American was a constrained guest at the 
 Spanish camp, and would probably insist on taking his depar- 
 ture so soon as his strength would permit ; and Don Manuel 
 accordingly proceeded to combat that supposed intention with 
 great earnestness. He represented to him very truly, that 
 there was no longer safety for him for a day or an hour in 
 the forest, and that to persist in quitting the protection which 
 their numbers gave him for the. present, would be to throw 
 his life away ; that with respect to his daughter, he relied 
 freely on the young officer's sense of honor and propriety, 
 knowing as he now did the engagement under which she 
 rested. Finally, seizing Warwick by the hand, and press- 
 ing it warmly and convulsively, while his lips quivered, lie 
 said : 
 
 " There are circumstances which it would be improper for 
 me to explain, that leave me for the present without the free- 
 dom of choice or will \ else, perhaps, I might feel disposed to 
 confer on you the only jewel that now remains to me. But, 
 young sir, -whatever I may at any time have said, or whatever 
 
TEE SON OF ROLLINOBOW, 217 
 
 I may hereafter be compelled to do, I beg you will do me the 
 justice to believe that I entertain for you, personally, a deep 
 and unchanging regard ; indeed, sir, such a regard, as had 
 God given me a son, I should probably have felt for him. 
 Wherever I may go, whatever I may become, I shall ever feel 
 for you the deepest solicitude ; and whether in wealth or pov- 
 erty, in honor or disgrace, whatever I may properly command 
 shall be yours, even to my life." 
 
 The heart of Warwick was too full for reply. He returned 
 the pressure of the hand that trembled in his own, in silence ; 
 and the Spaniard left him. For an hour the young man was 
 in a whirl of conflicting emotions. The knowledge of Don 
 Manuel's real sentiments toward him gave him unbounded sat- 
 isfaction ; but then, on fhe other hand, he now felt certain, of 
 what he had before only suspected, that the Spaniard was in- 
 volved in some toil which Don Ferdinand de Cassino had 
 either set, or of which he controlled the springs : and is it 
 matter of surprise that the ardent American ended with a re- 
 solve, that that toil, whatever it might be, should be broken ? 
 As to the delicate point of his quitting the protection of the 
 camp, the question was very properly adjourned over ; inas- 
 much as his utmost strength for the present barely sufficed to 
 enable him to sustain his weight for a single turn across the 
 floor. 
 
 The reveries of varying hue and shadow, in which War- 
 wick habitually indulged when alone, were one day inter- 
 rupted by the entrance of Hugh O' Brady, followed by the son 
 of Rollingbow. There was a touching sadness in the looks, 
 and a native grace in the deportment of the young savage, as 
 he approached his late captor, and knelt by the side of his 
 couch. 
 
 " I have buried my father," said he, in his own tongue, 
 * and return to you. I am yours." 
 
 " Good Ahvyn," returned Warwick, much affected, " I have 
 10 
 
218 CAMP FIRES OF THF RED MEN. 
 
 no claims on you ; go back to your family again. Go, and 
 become like your father, a great warrior, and a chief of your 
 people." 
 
 The eye of the youth sparkled for an instant at the thought, 
 but it was momentary. 
 
 " No," he replied. " The warrior's strong arm is weak : 
 his fleet step is slow. Alwyn has no one to teach him. RoU- 
 ingbow, the terror of his foes, the light and joy of his friends, 
 is dead. Who is there to care for his son ? I will stay with 
 the white man." 
 
 "But, Alwyn," said Warwick, "where is your mother? 
 Where are your brothers and your sisters ? They will mourn 
 for the lost one, when their eyes no longer behold you." 
 
 "Alwyn has none," returned the savage. "The deer has 
 its kind, the moon has its little moons to go with it, but Alwyn 
 is alone. His people are wroth with the white chief. They 
 have felt the power of his arm. They seek his blood : but 
 the white chief loved Rollingbow ; and should not Alwyn be 
 by his side to defend his life, lest his white dove weep, and 
 her eyes become dim like a star when it is hid in a cloud T 
 
 Warwick's heart was again^reached by this singular ex- 
 hibition of regard; and perceiving that the youth was in 
 earnest, he could not find it in his nature to refuse him. 
 
 "Well, well," said he, kindly, "you shall stay with me if 
 you like ; and so far as I can, I will supply to you the place 
 of the noble fa;ther you have lost. But I have no home to 
 offer you, no roof, no quiet lodge, no corn, no game : and soon, 
 perhaps, my boy, if you link your fate with mine, the sky or 
 the matted trees of the wood will be our only covering, and 
 the moss and the leaves our bed." 
 
 But this prospect for the future had nothing in it to alarm 
 the young Indian. He was therefore suffered to d,omesticate 
 himself with the master he had chosen, and soon became a 
 favorite with him. At first he was indisposed to extend his 
 
THE sour OF ROLLINQBO-W. 219 
 
 acquaintance further. Don Manuel was struck with the singu- 
 larity of his conduct, and gazed with admiration on the well- 
 turned limbs and pleasing countenance of the youth; but when 
 he approached him closely, the savage drew back with a 
 haughty dignity which the Spaniard himself could have hardly 
 equaled. A word from Warwick, however, restored his 
 equanimity, and he suffered himself to become the friend of 
 the Castilian. . ^/ 
 
 It was now a period of dull inaction in the camp. The 
 slain had been consigned to their last home, the wounded 
 were recovering, rest had recruited the men ; and since the 
 night of the assault no enemy had shown himself. Neverthe- 
 less, as yet Don Manuel had deemed it prudent to restrict his 
 followers to the works. In this posture of affairs, even the 
 arrival of the tawny son of Rollingbow was hailed by the en- 
 campment as an era ; and there was a disposition manifested 
 in all quarters to extend to him courtesy and kindness. These 
 attentions were received by the youth with that calm and 
 stoical indifference so often remarked as a striking character- 
 istic oFhis race. Once, indeed, he seemed moved. The 
 Lady Viola started and changed color, as she recognized the 
 young warrior who had put her life in jeopardy ; and the pain- 
 ful expression which shadowed his countenance in return, 
 showed with sufficient clearness that he understood the cause 
 of her alarm. 
 
 Doctor Oquetos received the young aborigine with the same 
 abundant ceremonies which, many years before, he had 
 framed with much ingenuity, and observed on the fortunate 
 occasion of his introduction to a plenipotentiary of one of the 
 crowned heads of Europe ; while the good Father Antonio 
 saluted the youth in a manner altogether paternal, expressing 
 at the same time the ardent hope that he might be found duly 
 prepared in spirit to renounce his Pagan formulas, and receive 
 the holy and true faith. Alwyn, however, comprehended 
 
220 CAMP FIRES, OF TBS BED MEN. 
 
 little of what was meant by these demonstrations. He estab- 
 lished himself in the quarters of Warwick, and in attendance 
 on him. Nor could any inducement often draw him thence. 
 There his thoughts and affections seemed to center, and there 
 the duties he had prescribed for himself to end. Of the wants 
 and wishes of his master he was ever watchful, and in his 
 presence, though there remained a pensive expression on his 
 features, he seemed contented and happy. 
 
A MYSTERY BXPLAINKD. THK SUSQUEHANNA. THE BEND MOUNTAIN- AND THE 
 NEW CAMP. 
 
 '* iTie «nn looked from his lofty clotiijl, 
 
 While flowed its sparkling waters fair— 
 Aad went upon his pathway proud, 
 
 And threw a brighter luster there ; 
 And smiled upon the golden heaven, 
 
 And 0.1 the earth's swett loveliness. 
 Where light, and joy, and song were given 
 
 The glad and fairy scene to bless." 
 
 A FEW days more, and Warwick found himself again in 
 the possession of some portion of that strength which, on 
 the morning subsequent to the reception of his wounds, he 
 had in vain endeavored to summon to his aid. He was able 
 to leave his tent and look abroad on the face of nature, and 
 witness those few pastimes in which the bounds of the camp 
 permitted the Spaniards to indulge. Viola and her father were 
 generally his companions ; and as they enjoyed the same 
 sights, or recalled in conversation all that, had occurred since 
 they first met — the shipwreck at night on the wild Jersey 
 shore, the few fleeting weeks which succeeded in New York, 
 their passage up the romantic Hudson, and their subsequent 
 perils in the wilderness — or, again, as the beautiful and 
 chivalrous land of Spain, or the wondrous regions of the New 
 World, where mines of wealth lie hidden in the hills, and the 
 rivers run with gold, formed subjects of discourse ; and pic- 
 tures of the past and far-away and beautiful, were, by the 
 enchanting wand of fancy, conjured before the mind, the 
 dangers of the present and the uncertainties of the future were 
 
222 . CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 forgotten. The Lady Viola became blithe again as a lark. 
 Soon, emboldened by their apparent security, they ventured 
 without the confines of the camp, and again the groves were 
 awakened by the music of her voice and her guitar. With 
 Warwick, time flew on fairy pinions. He could not speak of 
 love — he dared not think of love ; and so in very dssperation 
 he resolved that love should no longer trouble him, but kept 
 dreaming all the more. With his white bird, as Alwyn had 
 poetically christened her, hanging on his arm, he yielded him- 
 self to the bewilderment and fascination of the hour. 
 
 But those halcyon days — those amber visions, which depend 
 so much for their vitality on inactivity and an undisturbed 
 fancy, were suddenly interrupted by the return of Michael 
 Johnson. His surprise at meeting Warwick again in the com- 
 pany of the Spaniards was great, but was forgotten in his un- 
 feigned satisfaction. He took him by the hand, and saluted 
 him with an unconscious warmth of feeling, as unaccountable 
 to himself as to those who witnessed it. 
 
 The intelligence of which Johnson was the bearer was 
 soon communicated. Favored by the darkness of the night, 
 and by the concentration of the Indians, as it now appeared, 
 for their attack on the camp, the party, headed by Don Fer- 
 dinand and himself, had met with no interruption. The 
 evening of the subsequent day brought them to their place of 
 destination ; and no time was lost in selecting a proper posi- 
 tion, and entering on the erection of permanent accommo- 
 dations, and strong and defensible works. 
 
 The reasons for all this preparation and outlay of labor, as 
 well as the mystery which had shrouded the movements of the 
 Spaniards, were now for the first time explained to Warwick. 
 In their early explorations of the American continent, mostly 
 in search of the precious metals, the Spaniards were believed 
 to have penetrated regions of which no public record remained. 
 The present territory was one of them. Don Manuel was in 
 
THE MOUNTAIN AND ITS FORTRESS, 223 
 
 the possession of an ancient map, which had come into his 
 hands while-in Mexico ; in which the route, thus far traveled 
 by the party, was minutely and accurately laid down, even to 
 the mountain lying in the great bend of the Susquehanna 
 River, on which the advanced fortification had been located; 
 and which was represented to contain a gold mine of un- 
 usual richness. Thus far every indication had been pro- 
 pitious. There had been no difficulty in finding the particular 
 mountain. Its bald brow, and the features of its rocky sides, 
 answered the description ; and even the roughly marked in- 
 denture which was represented to open into the mine itself, 
 had been discovered. As prospecting for treasure was the 
 mania of that day, as it has become again of this, it was in the 
 common order of events that the Spaniards, when forced into 
 exile, should undertake the expedition in which they were 
 engaged. Johnson, during the greater portion of Don Manuel's 
 sojourn in Mexico, had been in his employ. In one of his 
 Western scouts, as has already been said, the veteran had 
 dropped down into New Spain, where he had been so fortu- 
 nate as to use his brawny arm in the rescue of Don Manuel 
 from the fury of a mob, which had given him an attached and 
 powerful friend. He was able, of his own knowledge, to 
 verify the general correctness of the ancient map, and readily 
 became on© of the party. 
 
 It was a pleasant summer morning as the tents were struck, 
 and our adventurers, bidding adieu, with some melancholy 
 thoughts, to a spot which had been to them so pregnant of 
 events, took up their line of march. Not a cloud obscured 
 the horizon : the air in that primitive and sylvan region was 
 cool and bracing ; and, above all, the information they had 
 gathered from Alwyn of the crippled condition of the savages, 
 and the report of their scouts, that their path ahead was clear, 
 and the assurances of Johnson, contributed to clothe each, 
 countenance with cheerfulness. The hardy and patient veteran 
 
224 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN; 
 
 again took his post in the van ; and Warwick, though still 
 feeble, ^preferring the back of a horse to the toilsome carriage 
 of a litter, was consigned to the center. His position, as he 
 could no longer occupy the post of danger, was all that he 
 could desire ; near, or as the nature of the way permitted, by 
 the side of the Lady Viola and her father ; and supported in 
 the rear by those two dignitaries, on whom separately rested 
 the care of the bodies and the souls of their companions. 
 
 The passage of the Delaware was safely effected, and they 
 entered on a region of country wild and romantic in the ex- 
 treme. There was no sign that a civilized foot hed ever 
 trodden the mazes they were threading. There was no maris 
 o^ the huntsman's axe, no remains of the white man's fires ; 
 but on the contrary, old Indian trails, and temporary Indian 
 camps, and blazed trees, marked with fantastic savage sym- 
 bols, the meaning of which no one save Johnson could at all 
 divine. Viola sighed as they left the valley of the river. 
 During her fearful travel and sojourn in the woods of America, 
 there had been little to recall to her recollection any thing that 
 she had ever seen before. The hills, trees, shrubs, and 
 flowers were the product of another hemisphere from her 
 own. The running waters were alone the same. Indeed, 
 there is a familiar look in the rivers of a foreign land which 
 we find in little else. Each clime clothes its mountains and 
 its valleys with a verdure of its own, or the hand of man has 
 turned them to unfamiliar uses; but the clear, pure water from 
 the springs, with its silver sheen and mystic life-giving powers, 
 the rocks and boulders in the river's bed, the pebbled shore, 
 the smooth or rushing current, the fringed and winding stream, 
 and the leafy, sparkling brooklet, in many of their features, 
 will always answer to the water-courses of our home. And | 
 thus it is that we ever greet the rivers as our friends. 
 
 The reader will readily imagine the grave conversations 
 which occurred between Doctor Oquetos and Signer Antonio; 
 
THE MOUNTAIN AND ITS FORTRESS. 225 
 
 and the sensible things that were said by Captain Warwick 
 and the Lady Viola, during the journey from the Delaware, 
 over the hilly region that intervenes, to the valley of the Sus- 
 quehanna. But that mental occupation which charms away 
 fatigue was quite beyond the reach of the unlettered men who 
 constituted the great majority of the party : and notwithstanding 
 the beauty of the day, and of many of the landscapes that met 
 the eye, the march was necessarily toilsome. At times they 
 ascended a progressive series of hills, swell after swell, each 
 one, ere its summit was attained, promising to be the last; 
 and again they descended into some deep vale, where their 
 way lay through a thick mass of vegetation, difficult to pene- 
 trate ; or down some tangled dell, or frowning gorge, by the 
 side of a foaming torrent, or under some rocky spur, which 
 hung in frightful shadows over their heads. The intermin- 
 able forests were much the same as they had seen before. 
 In many places the pine, spearlike and evergreen, predomi- 
 nated ; and, indeed, stretched away in a majestic colonnade, 
 with dark and matted roof, and many-pointed spires for miles ; 
 but more generally, other trees were intermingled. Some of 
 them, especially the smaller ones, were rich with blossoms ; 
 and the Lady Viola did not disdain to receive, at the hand of 
 Warwick, a branch of the white and spotted dogwood. 
 Though the name is far from poetical, the gift met with favor. 
 She bound the delicious flowers with a silken cord, and wore 
 them in her girdle. 
 
 The night was passed in safety, and the second day brought 
 them into the valley of the Susquehanna. As they descended 
 from the mountains, catching glimpses through the trees of 
 this beautiful river, whose waters are clear as crystal, whose 
 banks are hung with the richest verdure, and whose valleys, 
 in all the different forms of loveliness and landscape, are un- 
 surpassed, the dullest eye was filled with animation, and the 
 coldest bosom experienced a throb of pleasure. It was God 
 
 10* 
 
226 CAMP FIRES OJr' THE RED MEN. 
 
 talking to them through the forms of earth, and inviting them 
 to become pure and harmonious like his works. 
 
 Passing up the river a few miles, they came to the spot 
 which had been selected for the crossing, where had been 
 provided the necessary means, and where Don Ferdinand 
 awaited them. The Lady Viola saw her betrothed approach- 
 ing, and every thing that was charming around her faded from 
 her sight. At that moment the brightest scenes of earth 
 would not have sufficed to buoy up her sinking spirits. The 
 unexpected sight of Warwick seemed to have an equal effect 
 on the chevalier. He changed color ; and Don Manuel, lead- 
 ing him aside, spent some minutes with him in private con- 
 versation. On their return, he coldly saluted the American, 
 and his sign of recognition Was acknowledged as cavalierly 
 as it was given. He, however, attached himself sedulously 
 to the Lady Viola ; and Warwick, as in duty bound, but with 
 a pang at his heart, fell back. 
 
 In a short time the river was safely crossed, and they 
 entered on the green Indian meadows beyond, covered with 
 a fragrant carpet of grass, and shaded by a few venerable 
 trees : and soon thereafter they commenced the ascent of that 
 mountain, whose bare head, as it lay in relief against the sky, 
 had long since been pointed out in the distance by Johnson 
 as that portion of earth supposed to conceal within its bosom 
 the object of the Spaniards' golden dreams. It was the wild- 
 est spot they had yet encountered, fitted to conjure up slum- 
 bering superstitions : and the men, as they toiled up its sides, 
 were struck with a sensation of awe, and already imagined 
 that they discovered in its atmosphere a strange and mys- - 
 terious influence. The Lady Viola looked with a different 
 feeling upon the huge rocks, the precipitous ascents, and 
 somber ravines by which they were surrounded. In a better 
 frame of mind she would have enjoyed the scene ; now it 
 could do little more than to distract her thoughts from objects 
 
TEE MOUNTAIN AND ITS FORTRESS. 227 
 
 of a still deeper gloom. As a counterpart, the birds were 
 singing cheerfully around, as though they found no fault with 
 the rugged but majestic hill ;' and the air, redolent with the 
 scent of thyme, and other undistinguished sweets, showed that 
 they were still in a land of flowers. 
 
 The site of the camp was a rocky prominence, midway up 
 the mountain, steep and difficult of approach, and sheltered on 
 the north by the still projecting eminence, from which it was 
 divided by a narrow ravine. This had already been con- 
 siderably deepened by digging. The main works for defense 
 were similar in kind, but of a stronger and more permanent 
 nature than those they had left behind them on the Dela- 
 ware, and contained within an enlarged area several com- 
 fortable log houses. 
 
 At this distance from the base of the hill, the vegetation, 
 though still plentiful, was of the smaller growth. The ver- 
 dant laurel, with its thick satin leaf and splendid clusters of 
 flowers, spread away in immense tracts, here and there inter- 
 spersed with little clumps of birch or elm or other hardy 
 shrub, and an occasional low and knotted pine or dwarfed 
 chestnut, which seemed set as land-marks in the midst of a 
 wilderness of bushes. The sides of the steep ascents and 
 the edges of the rocks were fringed with honeysuckles, wild 
 roses, thyme, whortleberries, and other flowering and odorif- 
 erous shrubs and plants, which filled the air with their agree- 
 able perfumes. 
 
 In the distance the prospect presented a succession of hills 
 and dales, luxuriant with their primitive forests. East and 
 south a gentle depression of the trees, with the blue water 
 here and there peeping through, and glancing in the sunlight 
 like flowing silver, marked for a long distance the course of 
 the Susquehanna, as it came down from the north, and circling 
 round the mountain, turned again toward the region whence 
 it came. Immediately abreast, where the river was broadly 
 
32^ OAKF FIRES OF TEE BED MEN. 
 
 in view, a small green island lay sleeping on its bosom, o^ 
 which grew a few venerable white-armed sycamores an^ 
 weeping willows : and these, with the water prospect, the 
 fringed and flowered banks, and Indian meadows, completed 
 the picturesque landscape, from the camp. 
 
ANOTHKB CAMP FIRB TALE, WHICH WILL BE FOUND IN THE END TO 
 INTIMATELY CONNECTED WITH OUR STORY. 
 
 " There Is a song of sonow, 
 
 The death-dirge of the gay, 
 That tells ere dawu of morrow 
 
 These charms may melt away, 
 That sun's bright beam be shaded, 
 
 That sky be bine no more, 
 The summer flowers be faded, < 
 
 And youth's warm promise o'er," 
 
 IT is by no means the design of this work to chronicle, step 
 by step, the labor and the alternate hopes and fears of the 
 Spaniards, in their search after the hidden treasures of the 
 earth. Suffice it, that across the ravine already mentioned, 
 in the side of the mountain north of the camp, the excavation 
 was commenced. As the work progressed, encouraging evi- 
 dences of the proximity of the precious metal were not want- 
 ing. Indeed, it seemed clear that the present adventurers 
 were by no means the first visitors to this secret vault of 
 nature ; but that the hill, at this particular spot, had been 
 penetrated before. Not only were loose specimens of ap- 
 parent ore obtained, but often particles or scales, as it seemed, 
 of the pure gold itself. The stones that were thrown out 
 were rough and broken, and had evidently been fractured by 
 force : and on a closer inspection, the marks of the drill were 
 clearly discoverable. Small deposits of wood-coal, cinders, 
 and ashes were often iiiet with : and under all these favor- 
 able auspices, the work rapidly advanced ; and very shortly 
 
i30 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 .he excavation assumed the appearance of a dreary and ca- 
 pacious cave. 
 
 There were an abundance of deer and other wild game in 
 the vicinity ; and the hunt, a necessary resort for the raising 
 of supplies, furnished an agreeable relief to the labor of the 
 mine. There were also Indian settlements in the neighbor- 
 hood, particularly at Oquago, Cookhouse, and Chenang, near 
 the junction of the Chenango River with the Susquehanna : 
 and ere long, a cautious intercourse with them was estab- 
 lished ; until, though rarely, some buskined savage dared to 
 venture within the precincts of the fort ; where he gazed 
 with wonder on their social arrangements, their implements, 
 and their unintelligible labor. 
 
 The little varieties of incident which the circumscribed 
 operations of the party afforded, while the novelty remained, 
 were, nevertheless, matters of sufficient interest. Thus the 
 daily report from the mine, the excitements and perils of the 
 chase, the meeting with an occasional group of half a dozen 
 panthers, or with the rattlesnake, that terror of the American 
 woods, and their hazardous negotiations with the natives for 
 a scanty supply of corn, furnished for a time abundant food 
 for conversation to the unoccupied. 
 
 The events of the day were usually discussed in the even- 
 ing, either in Don Manuel's lodge, or in the little open area 
 which adjoined it ; by those whose standing permitted them 
 to mingle in the social circle of the chief. The veteran John- 
 son was ever welcome ; and the Lady Viola never tired of 
 his simple, unobtrusive ways and unpretending but sensible 
 discourse. On one of those evenings the little coterie having 
 been found particularly harmonious and happy, not less from 
 the presence of Johnson and Warwick, than from the absence 
 of Don Ferdinand, who was confined to his own quarters by 
 a slight indisposition, the Lady Viola look occasion to recall 
 to the recollection of the old man an implied promise he had 
 
LUCY AND PAUL. 231 
 
 made her, to give her some further account of his early life. 
 The veteran understood the point of allusion at once. Re- 
 clining his head on his hand, he sat for some moments in 
 silence. 
 
 " There can be little interest in the story," at length he 
 said, " to any one but me. Lucy died, and I've not yet forgot 
 her. But her pleasant face none of you did ever see ; and 
 why should you be called to grieve over her sorrows or mine ? 
 Still, if you wish it, I will tell you about her, for I should not 
 be niggardly of words, lady, when you are willing to listen." 
 
 All expressed an anxiety to hear ; and Johnson, composing 
 the visible emotion which had disturbed his rugged features, 
 proceeded : 
 
 " I have told you before, lady, that I was a wild youngster, 
 one at whom the old folks shook their heads, and wondered 
 how he'd end. Still, Lucy, the handsomest girl of the town, 
 and the gentlest of all creaters, loved me. We were born 
 and bred in the same neighborhood, within a stun's throw of 
 each other ; and when we were little and went to school or 
 meetin', we used to go hand in hand together, like brother and 
 sister. I called her my little wife long b-^fore I knew the 
 meaning of the word ; and in all my plans of life, when I 
 •should be one-and-twenty, Lucy, with her smiling blue eyes, 
 made a part. 
 
 " At length we married ; and though poor, we had enough, 
 and were contented and happy. My home, with Lucy by my 
 side, was the place where I always liked to be ; and while she 
 lived, I never wanted to rove. The birth of our little Paul — " 
 
 Warwick, who thus far had been an attentive listener, here 
 gave a sudden start, and arose from his seat. He put his 
 hand to his head ; a shadow had flitted through his brain, but 
 he could not catch it. Johnson inquired if he was ill. He 
 declared himself quite well, apologized for the interruption he 
 had occasioned, and the old man continued : 
 
232 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 ^' The birth of our little Paul, whose story is already known 
 to you, daughter, increased our happiness ; which indeed we 
 had considered perfect before ; and if even I thought it might 
 change, that it would not always last, 'twas when I looked on 
 Lucy's delicate form, which seemed made of too slender ma- 
 terials to endure. Still among the neighbors she was called 
 pretty healthy, though not very tough ; and they used to say to 
 me, they guessed she'd do middlin' well as I was pretty care- 
 ful of her. 1 hoped so too. She was cheerful as the day was 
 long ; and thus we lived till Paul was about two years old. 
 
 " At this time the Indians were getting uneasy, and the au- 
 thorities reckoned they were plotting mischief ag'in the set- 
 tlements. Steps were accordingly taken to guard ag'in their 
 designs ; and as our town was thought to be very much ex- 
 posed, a company of soldiers was quartered among us as a 
 guard. 
 
 ' The captain who commanded them, lady, proved to be a 
 villain, a disgrace to nater and mankind. He gained access 
 to my house, where every honest man was free to come, as a 
 friend ; but he turned out such an enemy as 'tis very hard ever to 
 forgive. My Lucy attracted his notice ; and when I was away 
 from home, he would steal in, and insult her with the story of 
 his wicked love. She, poor thing, was horror-struck; but 
 she didn't forget her duty to me and her God, nor her spirit as 
 a woman. She bid him be gone, and threatened to tell me ; 
 but, as she afterward said, he laughed her in the face, and 
 clappin' his sword with his hand, told her, if she cared for 
 my life, not to trouble me with complaints about him. 
 
 " An officer, in those days, was powerful, and his path not 
 safely to be crossed by one like me ; and Lucy, poor soul, 
 alarmed for my safety, feared to tell me of the villain. But 
 I see that somethin' lay heavy on her mind, and after beggin' 
 me on her knees not to do any thing rashly, she informed me 
 what had passed. 
 
LUCY AND PAUL. 233 
 
 '* Unmanned by her tears and entreaties, I kept quiet ; but 
 after that, staid about home, and watched over the safety of 
 my family, as a hen watches over her brood when it is threat- 
 ened by a hawk. It was that very day in the afternoon, while 
 I was at work in a field near by, that I discovered the treach- 
 erous Englishman makin' toward my house. I hurried home ; 
 before I got there, though I wasn't a minute behind him, I 
 heard Lucy scream. Snatchin' the handiest weapon by my 
 door, which happened to be a handspike, I rushed in, 
 Roused by my approach, the scoundrel let go of Lucy, who 
 fell senseless on the floor, and confronted me with his sword 
 Enraged beyond all bounds of endurance, with one blow which 
 his sword couldn't stop, I laid him helpless at my feet. 
 
 " My first care was to restore Lucy ; after which, with 
 much ado, I succeeded in recallin' the breath of life into om 
 enemy. I then sent for some of his soldiers, who came and 
 took him away. He was badly hurt, but left swearing the 
 most dreadful revenge. Lucy was almost distracted, and 
 entreated me to fly. But I would not leave her ; and be- 
 sides, I did'nt feel that I had done any thing wrong ; and it is 
 contrary to nater for an honest man to run away. 
 
 "About an hour after, a file of soldiers with a constable 
 came to our house, and bound me, and took me off" to prison. 
 I would'nt resist the law. But my poor Lucy, if she wad 
 nearly distracted before, now she was frantic. She followed 
 along in the road after us, with tears that would have melted 
 a stone; but the heartless soldiers, instead of pitying her, 
 taunted her, and heightened her grief into an agony of terror 
 by tellin' her that I would most probably be hung, or shot at 
 any rate, if the captain died, which was next to sartain. 
 This was too much. 1 couldn't stand it. My heart swelled 
 up till it was too big for my bosom, and almost stopped my 
 breath. By a sudden spring I broke the cords that confined 
 my arms, and knocking down one or two of the guards, who 
 
234 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 were between me and Lucy, I caught her in my arms. They 
 had just raised their guns to fire ; but when they see that I 
 didn't intend to run away, they forbore ; and some of them, I 
 believe, were at last touched by Lucy's sufferin', for we were 
 permitted to go the rest of the way together. I tried all I 
 could to comfort her as we went along. 
 
 " When we came to the jail, we were forced to separate. 
 They wouldn't allow her to go in ; but my kind neighbors by 
 this time were gathering round, and after a while succeeded 
 in coaxin' her away. They took her to her lonesome home ; 
 but they were very kind. They see that she wanted for 
 nothin' ; they cared both for her and her little boy ; and when 
 they learnt the particulars of our difficulty, they were loud in 
 demanding my freedom. Oh, they were kind indeed ; and as 
 my enemy recovered, they kept watch and guard over the 
 treasures in my house. 
 
 " I will pass by, lady, the daily pains- and anxieties of my 
 imprisonment, which extended to a period of two months. The 
 fore part of the time I saw Lucy a few minutes about every 
 day, through the grate ; after that, they told me she was not 
 very well, and the weather was so bad that it wasn't thought 
 best for her to venter out. The officer, meanwhile, had got 
 well, or nearly so; and either giving up his evil designs, or 
 alarmed at the clamor of the town, which was every day in- 
 creasing, till my neighbors threatened to tear down the jail ; 
 or fearin', perhaps, that the whole matter would come before 
 his superiors, and possibly the Governor himself, the charges 
 ag'in me were withdrawn, my prison doors were opened, and 
 I was once more restored to my Lucy. 
 
 " But, oh, how changed she was ! I found her pale as the 
 whitest marble, and so weak that she could scarcely stand 
 alone. I see at once that her trouble had broke her heart ; 
 and though she smiled and tried to be happy ag'in, she couldn't 
 get it out of her mind. Ever after, daughter, she was a mere 
 
L TTCT AND PAUL, 235 
 
 child. Day by day and week by week she sunk away ; the 
 strings of her spirit were cracked, and couldn't be mended ; 
 and like the frightened bird that trembles in your bosom, she 
 trembled, and by turns she wept, till she died." 
 
 The old man covered his face with his hands, and shook 
 like the leaf of an aspen. With him many years were com- 
 pressed into moments, and the distant past had become again 
 the present before him. His listeners were deeply affected, 
 too deeply for words ; and as he closed his relation, Warwick 
 again sprung to his feet, and vague shadows which he could 
 not hold, rushed upon his mind and heart. The Lady Viola 
 burst into tears, and the silent drops coursed down the cheeks 
 both of her father and the young American. But they were 
 not ashamed to shed them. 
 
€\uiitn f lirlH* 
 
 BTABLIGHT BBVEBIBS AND SUNLIGHT DBBAMS. 
 
 " How beautiful Is night I 
 JL dewy freshness fills the silent air. 
 No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor ataln 
 
 Breaks the serene of heaven ; 
 In fuU-orbed glory yonder Moon divine 
 Bolls through the dark-bluo depths, 
 Beneath her steady ray 
 The desert-circle spreads. 
 Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky. 
 How beautiful is night 1 " 
 
 WARWICK went to bed, but not to sleep. The shrieks of 
 the unfortunate Lucy rung in his ears, and her sinking 
 form and pale corse floated before him. The artless tale of 
 Johnson had opened the fountains of his heart, and the cur- 
 rent of his feelings refused to be stayed. He could not drive 
 the recollection from his mind. The sweet and confiding 
 creature, as he had depicted her to himself, her short and 
 happy summer, before the spoiler came, and her untimely end, 
 were graven on his imagination, and possessed him, so it 
 seemed, as vividly as though the reality had actually passed 
 before his eyes. And now he could account for the fits of list* 
 lessness and abstraction, which, in periods of inactivity, he had 
 frequently noticed in the rugged and weather-beaten hunter ; 
 as well as the tinge of sadness which generally shaded his 
 features. He was indeed a man of sorrows. The storms of 
 life had beat harshly upon him ; his sun had set in the morn- 
 ing • and all besides had been darkness, storm, and winter, 
 
STARLIGBT REVERIES AITD SUHTLIQET DREAMS. 237 
 
 save the dim and uncertain hopes which cling with us all to 
 the unknown and invisible future. 
 
 Tired at length of his restless couch, Warwick arose. 
 The night was bland ; and partially dressing himself, he 
 stepped out of doors. Leaning against the logs of the rude 
 cabin he gazed upward among the illimitable stars, and pur- 
 sued the train of his reflections. Suddenly a flash of soft 
 light waved along the top of the mountain above him, and in a 
 moment was gone. Soon again it reappeared, at first faint, 
 then glowing with a deeper luster, and then it vanished as be- 
 fore. But shortly it returned again, shooting higher and 
 higher with a deeper blush ; and other jets from other parts 
 of the horizon streamed up and up, in lambent lines and 
 waves of rose and gold, until they met at the zenith, and the 
 whole heavens were aglow with pale rivers of flame, and 
 coming and passing coruscations. Soon, however, they be- 
 gan to fade, and growing fainter and fainter and fainter, were 
 no more. 
 
 For the first time in his life Warwick had beheld the mys- 
 terious northern lights. But his excited mind could not stop 
 there. His thoughts pushed beyond, through the blue vault 
 of night, where the sight can not penetrate ; and reveled in 
 the magnificence of millions of spheres floating in such glo- 
 rious light and beauty. He stood, in mind, where no man had 
 ever stood, and saw what can not be written. 
 
 By-and-by he came back to earth, and thought again of the 
 bright and lovely things it contains. He thought of Johnson, 
 of Lucy, of the Lady Viola, of himself, and the waywardness 
 of his fate — fatherless, motherless, nameless ; the child of 
 want, the scholar of charity, the soldier of fortune, and the 
 sport of destiny. Man, said he, is indeed a bark set afloat on 
 the rough ocean of life, beset with shoals, with calms and 
 tempests, without a pilot or a rudder. But the next moment 
 the monitor within made himself heard, and preached to him 
 
238 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN: 
 
 in the still night, teaching him lessons which sooner or later 
 all must learn ; recalling the events of his own life, until he 
 was fain to confess with a saddened and sweetened heart, that 
 there is a Power that overlooks us kindly, and while He 
 leaves us in some good sense to our own choice, that we may 
 be ourselves, protects and holds us all in the hollow of His 
 hand. 
 
 But the old man and his Lucy ! the text round which had 
 circled an important train of thought — he could not yet dis- 
 miss them from his mind. Two hours after he found himself 
 still in the starlight leaning against the logs. His body had 
 been quiet, but the mind, that most wonderful intangible thing, 
 which was his very self, had been at work. It had vindicated 
 its own divinity by an effort to create ; and the result was as 
 follows : 
 
 THE OLD MAN'S SORROW. 
 
 The pale stars are beaming 
 
 Over land and sea. 
 The north lights are streaming 
 
 High and cheerily ; 
 While the old man is dreaming, 
 
 If asleep he be, 
 Of his Lucy that is gone, 
 
 Gone, gone, forever ! 
 
 The years that have circled. 
 
 And made that old man gray. 
 Since the bride of his bosom 
 
 Was given back to clay. 
 Have failed to soothe his sorrows. 
 
 To him they're but a day. 
 For his Lucy she is gone. 
 
 Gone, gone, forever! 
 
 When the nights are creeping 
 
 O'er the dewy earth, 
 And others all are sleeping, 
 
 Or full of rosy mirth. 
 
STARLIGHT REVERIES AND SUNLIGHT DREAMS. 239 
 
 Why is the old man weeping ? 
 
 'Tis for his home and hearth. 
 For his Lucy that is gone, 
 
 Gone, gone, forever ! 
 
 And when the moon is breaking. 
 
 When the blushing skies 
 Their rosy tints are taking 
 
 To charm all other eyes, 
 Why is the old man waking. 
 
 So lothly to arise ? 
 Oh, his Lucy she has gone. 
 
 Gone, gone, forever ! 
 
 And when the day is vsrMling 
 
 Its sunny hours away. 
 And he around is smiling, 
 
 As though his toil were play. 
 With light cheer all beguiling. 
 
 Why sighs he old and gray ? 
 Oh, his Lucy she is gone. 
 
 Gone, gone, forever ! 
 
 Wilt thou never come again. 
 
 Sweet bride of his youth, * 
 
 With the sunlight of thine eyes, 
 
 And thy heart of holy truth ? 
 Never, never ; but the old man 
 
 Shall go to thee, in sooth — 
 He will go where thou art gone. 
 
 And cherish thee forever ! 
 
 Warwick went to bed and slept. In his dreams the Lady- 
 Viola stood before him. No, it was not Viola. The gentle 
 expression was like hers ; but then the hair was the color of 
 sunlight and the eyes were blue. It was Lucy. He per- 
 ceived it clearly now; and though he knew she was dead, it 
 did not surprise him at all to see her. She did not smile, but 
 her face was radiant with loveliness and peace, and she looked 
 very benignantly upon him as she spoke. He did not hear 
 her voice, and yet he knew very well that she spoke, and he 
 
240 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 understood her perfectly as she called him her child, and as- 
 sured him that the great Father of All was kind to his chil- 
 dren, and that, by-and-by, he should come and live with her 
 in her home of glory. 
 
 He awoke. As he opened his eyes he almost saw the 
 beautiful vision before him ; and was quite sure that a soft 
 glow of roseate light still lingered in the room. He reflected 
 on the incident with surprise, it was so life-like, and turned 
 the words over and over in his mind ; and by-and-by, as morn- 
 ing was about breaking, he slept again ; and this time without 
 dreams. ^ 
 
Cfeagtu ffetrtg-jOfitK 
 
 THE RIVALS. A HAND TO HAND KECKONINO. 
 
 Mtm, , What news 7 
 
 Hot. None, my lord, but that the world Is grown honest. 
 
 Oitn. Then to doomsdey near j but your news is not true. Let me question more In ^rtlcuUr. 
 
 THE hue of health was again restored to the cheek of War- 
 wick. The blood coursed merrily in his veins : an unde- 
 fined hope was in his heart : he looked abroad on the face of 
 na,ture, even the wilderness, with joy : he breathed the in- 
 spiring air with delight ; his step was elastic, his arm was 
 strong ; and he felt that he was himself once more. Little or 
 nothing had passed between him and Don Ferdinand from day 
 to day. The Spaniard seemed studiously to avoid him ; and 
 that he might do so, even relinquished, to a considerable ex- 
 tent, the society of the Lady Viola and her father. To this 
 Warwick could not object ; but still, as his health became re- 
 instated, and the crisis of his destiny appeared yet distant as 
 ever, he began seriously to feel the tardy movement of events, 
 and the extreme delicacy of his position. Don Manuel, it is 
 true, did every thing in his power to render him contented 
 and happy : but latterly he had made no reference to his owa 
 private affairs; while day by day, it was evident, a deeper 
 shade of anxiety was gathering on his brow ; and Warwick 
 could not but apprehend that his own presence might be add- 
 ing to his perplexities ! 
 
 One day as he was occupied with thoughts like these, he 
 strolled down the side of the mountain to the river; \nd while 
 walking along the bank, he was surprised to see Don Per- 
 il • _ . 
 
242 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 dinand approaching. The chevalier accosted him with an 
 affability to which he had long been a stranger. 
 
 " Captain Warwick," said he, " I owe you sonae expla- 
 nations and apologies, which it is now my intention to render, 
 if you will receive them. Obligated to you as I am, as we all 
 are, indeed, it manifestly belongs to me to make the advances 
 toward a reconciliation between us. It is my wish that the 
 past, or whatever has been unpleasant in the past, may be 
 forgotten." 
 
 " If Don Ferdinand is in earnest," returned Warwick, "he 
 will find an attentive listener ; and one disposed to meet him 
 half way." 
 
 " Very well," said the Spaniard. " And now to avoid all 
 misconceptions for the future, it is necessary that there should 
 be a precise understanding between us on some certain points. 
 Each should know his own ground, and confine himself to it. 
 You are doubtless aware of the nature of my connection with 
 the Lady Viola Torrillo T 
 
 By this time the American perceived that the interview 
 might terminate in a very different manner from what its com- 
 mencement portended. Anxious, however, to avoid an un- 
 pieasant altercation, he simply replied, 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " She is my affianced wife," continued Don Ferdinand : 
 " and may I be permitted to inquire if Captain Warwick 
 recognizes the validity of the engagement subsisting between 
 us ?" 
 
 " If recognized by the lady and her father, most assuredly I 
 do," replied Warwick. 
 
 " Has not Don Manuel informed yr u that such is the 
 fact?" 
 
 " He has." 
 
 " Then I am to conclude, that the asseverations of those who 
 pretend to say that Captain Warwick follows the track of the 
 
A HAjm TO BAND RECKONING. 243 
 
 Spaniards, to pour his tale of love into the ear of the Lady 
 Viola, and to steal her affections from her lawful lord, are 
 groundless and false ?" 
 
 " You are," replied Warwick. " But, Don Ferdinand, 
 understand me not as saying that I am indifferent to the 
 esteem of the lady of whom you speak. Still I may freely 
 assert, that since I became acquainted with the contract exist- 
 ing between yourself and the Lady Viola, or rather between 
 your mutual parents, I have respected it. The dangers which 
 have beset you in our American woods, and my recent wounds, 
 I suppose, are a sufficient explanation of my presence with 
 you now." 
 
 The chevalier listened impatiently. Several times he was 
 on the point of interrupting Warwick ; but when at length the 
 latter came to a pause, he hesitated, and seemed at a loss 
 what to say. The American continued : 
 
 " Instead of listening to apologies, Don Ferdinand, I have 
 thus far submitted to be catechised by you, and have answered 
 your questions civilly. I trust now you will proceed with the 
 purpose you expressed at the outset." 
 
 But the chevalier would not relinquish his point. 
 
 " You love' Viola ?" said he. 
 
 « I do." 
 
 " Swear by your honor, as a soldier, that your love shall be 
 silent — that you will never breathe it in her ear, never inter- 
 fere between her and me !" 
 
 " I can not — I will not," replied Warwick, emphatically. 
 " The future is a wide field. I will deal fairly and justly by 
 you, Don Ferdinand, but I will not tie myself up for all time. 
 The lady and the fates must judge between us." 
 
 " Ha !" said Don Ferdinand, turning pale ; while every 
 nerve became tense, and he spoke through his clenched teeth. 
 " The fates then shall pass a sudden judgment !" 
 
 With this, quick as thought, he slipped a stiletto from the 
 
244 CAMP FIRES OF TSE RED MEN. 
 
 sleeve of his right arm, and sprung upon his rival. Though 
 unprepared for an essay of this nature, Warwick was so for- 
 tunate ?s to seize the descending hand; and found little diffi- 
 culty in wrenching the weapon from the grasp of the des- 
 perate Spaniard : and throwing it from him, the blue waves 
 of the Susquehanna closed over it. But as he did so, Don 
 Ferdinand tore away from his hold and drew his sword. 
 
 Why it was that the assailant did not resort to his pistols, 
 for he had a brace about his person, must be left to conjecture. 
 Perhaps he felt more at home with the dagger ; and after- 
 ward, relying somewhat on the forbearance of the American, 
 preferred to avail himself of his acknowledged skill with the 
 instrument he now brandished in his hand. 
 
 " Sir Warwick," said he, and his dark, bloodless lips 
 quivered as he spoke, " this world is not wide enough for us 
 both. One of us must give way. You are my bane, my 
 curse, my demon that tempts me to sin. I would rather sleep 
 with Pluto, this night, than under the same sky with you. 
 Come on, then ! I give you a fair field." 
 
 " A fair field !" repeated Warwick with contempt. " I will 
 not meet an assassin on such terms. Don Ferdinand, I do 
 not want any difficulty with you : leave me ! I will not fight 
 you." 
 
 " Coward! hind! serf!" said Don Ferdinand, elevating the 
 fingers of his left hand in derision ; " you shall fight, or 
 run." 
 
 " Sir," returned Warwick very deliberately, " I warn you to 
 be careful, and not tempt me too far. There are many rea- 
 sons why I would not harm you, nor be harmed by you. 
 Your imputations I despise. I would not sully my sword by 
 crossing it with yours. The scaffi^ld alone can do you proper 
 justice ; and to that I leave you. I tell you again, I will not 
 fight you." 
 
 " And do you," said Don Ferdinand, " a base-born menial. 
 
A HAKD TO BAND RECKONINO. 245 
 
 set up the gentleman over me, a noble of Spain? Who was 
 your father, pray, and who your mother ? Tell me, that I may 
 write their names in my tablets, and show them to the Lady 
 Viola. Not fight, ha ! ha ! You will flee, then ! The Lady 
 ^ Viola is the prize between us !" 
 
 Thus saying, he rushed madly on the American. Stung by 
 his words, and compelled to act in self-defense, Warwick no 
 longer hesitated ; but exclaiming in his turn, " Viola ! I will 
 at least save her from the toils of a villain !" he disposed him- 
 self to the combat. 
 
 The parties were pretty equally matched. Both were 
 skilled to cut, thrust, and parry, and as light of foot as the 
 mountain cat. The Spaniard had the advantage of years and 
 training with his weapon ; but this was perhaps counter- 
 balanced by the superior coolness and strength of the Ameri- 
 can : and thus, when but for a brief space the solitude of the 
 shore had been broken by the clang of steel, and Warwick re- 
 mained untouched, the doublet of his adversary showed a 
 spot of blood. 
 
 " Hell and its furies !" exclaimed Don Ferdinand. " Am I 
 to be forever baffled, and at last slain by a nameless boor ? Ye 
 saints forbid ! God, and our holy mother, forfend !" 
 
 He redoubled his efforts. His blows and lunges followed 
 each other in rapid succession ; while his countenance, so 
 lately pale, was now flushed and swollen, his eyes bloodshot, 
 and every feature distorted by the fierceness of his passion. 
 His furious blows, however, were skillfully received, parried, 
 and returned : and at length, in very exhaustion, he paused. 
 To a respite Warwick did not object : and with their swords 
 still crossed, and eye riveted on eye, step by step, the rivals 
 passed several times completely around each other, as they 
 took their breath. 
 
 The more opportunity he had for reflection, the more the 
 American felt disposed to avoid, if possible, a^serious termi- 
 
246 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 nation to the affray. The Spaniard was, therefore, the first 
 to recommence. Making a pass or two, he seemed to collect 
 himself for some decisive effort, and then raised his weapon 
 aloft, as though with one tremendous, final blow, to cleave his 
 opponent to the dust, The movement was but a feint. The 
 polished steel flashed in the sun ; but suddenly withdrawing 
 it, with the speed of light, he aimed an impetuous thrust, full 
 at the heart of his antagonist. But the cunning weapon found 
 Warwick prepared. With a powerful circling side-stroke, he 
 not only turned the threatening point from his breast, but 
 wrenched the instrument completely from the Spaniard's 
 grasp; and it fell quivering, at the distance of several 
 paces on the ground. Don Ferdinand found himself dis- 
 armed, and with the sword of his adversary at his throat. 
 There was a brief pause, during which his features changed 
 to a -look of beseeching terror, while his limbs shook with 
 affright. 
 
 " Cowardly miscreant !" said Warwick, contemptuously. 
 " A man who dallies so freely with the lives of others, me- 
 thinks, should possess some little nerve himself. Twice have 
 I nearly fallen by your treachery — once by the hand of your 
 hired assassin, and again this day by your own. Twice ere 
 this have I saved your worthless life. The first time we met 
 I dragged you senseless from the sea. Again, though un- 
 known to you, I rescued you from the tortures of the savages. 
 Twice more this day I give you back your life when it is 
 forfeit. I will not kill so miserable a wretch. Go, and re- 
 pent : but have a care that you cross not my path again. If 
 you do, as God is my witness, I will not spare you. Begone ! 
 I say, begone !" 
 
 Don Ferdinand made no reply, but slowly retreated back- 
 ward, as though afraid to trust the words of his generous rival. 
 He had proceeded in this manner but a few paces, when his 
 face suddenly brightened, and his whole aspect changed, as 
 
A HAND TO HAND RECKONING. I&47 
 
 ne discovered a couple of his servants approaching ; and at 
 the top of his voice he cried out : 
 
 "Help! ho— help! help!" 
 
 Warwick at first supposed that the Spaniard must have 
 received some more serious injury in the affray than was appa- 
 rent ; and started forward with the view of aiding him. But 
 he was immediately undeceived. Casting his eye to the right 
 he discovered the veritable Ambrose, who had beset him in 
 New York, and another of the chevalier's unscrupulous me- 
 nials, weapon in hand, advancing at a quick pace ; and he per- 
 ceived at once that his desperate enemy, whom no act of mag- 
 nanimity could touch, proposed still a closing scene to the 
 drama. 
 
 He was well aware that there was no time for delay, and 
 he made none. Quickly returning his sword to its scabbard, 
 he grappled his pistols, and deliberately presenting one at Don 
 Ferdinand, fired. The Spaniard gave a shriek and fell. 
 Turning toward his new assailants, he presented the other ; 
 and the three fired nearly together, but without effect. Drop- 
 ping his useless pistols, the American now advanced with his 
 sword ; and perceived as he did so, that before he could bring 
 the enemy to close quarters, he should have to stand another 
 fire. He moved rapidly, in part with the purpose of distract- 
 ing their aim; the two rascals had already elevated their 
 weapons ; but ere they were discharged, the young Indian, 
 Alwyn, rushed in between the combatants. Close in his rear 
 followed the athletic Michael Johnson, who, swinging his 
 rifle with his brawny arm, as though it had been a toy, brought 
 the belligerents to a stand. 
 
 " How now, boys !" cried the old man. " Warwick ! Am 
 brose ! what's the meaning of all this ?" 
 
 " Our master is slain," returned Ambrose, pointing to the 
 spot where Don Ferdinand lay writhing on the ground. 
 
 " Go to his assistance," said Johnson. " You won't aid him 
 
24& CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 any in his journey to the other world by killin' another to bear 
 him company;" and turning to Warwick, he continued : "this 
 is unfortunate, boy. How did it happen ? but there is no time 
 for explanations now, while blood is flowin'." 
 
 Thus saying he proceeded himself to render such aid to the 
 wounded man as the nature of the case would permit. War- 
 wick, meanwhile, remained leaning on his sword in a painful 
 state of anxiety. 
 
 " Alwyn," said he, " I much regret that I did not allow you 
 to accompany me this morning as you requested. A witness 
 to all that has transpired would just at present be a great relief 
 to my feelings." 
 
 " My arm also might have done you some good," returned 
 the youth. 
 
 "All that is very well as it is," rejoined Warwick. "I 
 have escaped, as it were by a miracle, unhurt. You came at 
 the time of my greatest need, when I was littl.6 looking for 
 succor, and did me good service. But how happened you 
 here at all ? How came Michael Johnson here just at the 
 important moment, when another instant would have probably 
 terminated my career forever ? Alwyn, the Great Spirit 
 watches over us for good." 
 
 " Soon after you left the camp," replied the Indian, " Don 
 Ferdinand also left, followed by his two knaves. Their eyes 
 looked bloody, and I was afraid." 
 
 " Ha ! judge you so shrewdly?" interrupted Warwick. 
 
 " Their own faces judged them," returned the youth. 
 " Not knowing what to do, I went to good Michael. He 
 said we had better follow on and see fair play ; and so W6> 
 came.^' 
 
 Don Ferdinand was found to be severely, but Johnson was 
 of the opinion not mortally, wounded. The old man, with a 
 skill which the necessities of his wandering life had imparted, 
 soon succeeded in staunching the flow of blood ; and having 
 
A HAND TO HAND RECKONINQ. 249 
 
 dispatched Alwyn to the camp for more help, he and the 
 two servants soon constructed a rude litter of limbs bound 
 together with bark, on which the chevalier was carefully- 
 placed ; and muttering curses as he went, the miserable man 
 ■was slowly borne up the hill toward the encampment. 
 
 11* 
 
 >.<?>-; {-(<.' 
 
 i>^ !. iVS- 
 
A GHOSTLY BRIDEGROOM. TUMULT IN THB OAMP. 
 
 " To be furious, 
 Is to be frightened out of fear.' 
 
 CHARLES WARWICK proceeded to the camp in adrance ; 
 and at once seeking Don Manuel, related to him the oc- 
 currences of the morning, with their frightful termination. 
 The blame so evidently rested with the assailant and victim, 
 that Don Manuel, while he deeply regretted the melancholy 
 catastrophe, frankly declared he could see nothing to cen- 
 sure in the part acted by the American. He showed him 
 into his own quarters, and himself proceeded out to meet Don 
 Ferdinand. 
 
 The servants of that individual, meanwhile, under the di- 
 rection of JohnsQU, were slowly bearing him up the narrow and 
 winding footpath which led to the fortress. The face of the 
 chevalier was no longer flushed, but had changed to a deathly 
 sallow hue, and was covered with large drops of clammy per- 
 spiration. His voice was faint and languid, and he suffered 
 much from pain ; yet the threatening finger of death seemed 
 quite insufficient to tame his fiery passions. His eyes gleamed 
 with the fury of disappointed revenge ; and denunciations, not 
 only of his rival, but of all those around him, formed the bur- 
 den of the broken sentences which his weak state permitted 
 him to utter. As Don Manuel met him with still additional 
 aid to assist in bearing him on, he covered him also with re- 
 proaches ; and thus he continued to rave, sometimes at one. 
 
A GSOSTLY BRlDEGROOM.^ 251 
 
 and sometimes at another, until the fortress was gained, and 
 he was submitted into the hands of the surgeon. 
 
 Doctor Oquetos found the sword cuts of little consequence ; 
 he shook his head, however, at the aspect of the pistol wound, 
 and declared that the ball had been very injudiciously directed. 
 The shot, indeed, was of an alarming nature, the bullet having 
 entered the right side, where it was still lodged ; and the loss of 
 blood also having been considerable. On examination, however, 
 it was found that both the distance and his own position had 
 been much in the Spaniard's favor. The ball was extracted 
 with- some trouble, but for the present it did not positively 
 appear that any important organ was injured. The dressings 
 were applied; and worn out with varying excitements, and 
 loss of the vital tide, the chevalier sunk into repose. Don 
 Manuel, the physician, and the priest remained beside him 
 during some hours of tolerably quiet rest, in the course of 
 which the Lady Viola, more than once, kindly came in per- 
 son to inquire after his condition and prospects. 
 
 He awoke sore and stiff, but with the vital powers refreshed. 
 He first inspired his breath deeply, and then hallooed to ascer- 
 tain the strength and soundness of his lungs. Satisfied by the 
 experiment that the main organs of life were untouched, he 
 indulged in a smile of scorn. He laughed outright , and as 
 he hastily reflected and matured his plans, an expression of 
 malicious triumph took possession of his features. He re- 
 quested to be left alone with Don Manuel ; and abruptly de- 
 manded of him, immovable as he lay on his couch, the imme- 
 diate solemnization of his nuptials with the Lady Viola. 
 
 When Don Manuel had recovered from his surprise, ht 
 represented to the chevalier that he was in no condition to go 
 through with a ceremony of that nature ; that with his pres- 
 ent prospects, however probable his ultimate recovery might 
 be deemed, it would far better become him to call on Father 
 Antonio to administer ghostly comfort, an 1 to shrive his soul^ 
 
252 CAMP FIEES OF THE RED MEK 
 
 than to feast his fancy with the illusory pleasures and ambi- 
 tions of the world. 
 
 But Don Ferdinand was not thus to be put off. He had 
 evidently determined on the present denouement of the one 
 great plot and object of his life. He reminded Don Manuel 
 of the sacred original contract entered into by himself and the 
 older Cassino, which could not be broken ; to its repeated 
 recognition and renewal since ; to the many sacrifices he him- 
 self had made to obtain its fulfillment ; to the unexampled pa- 
 tience with which he had awaited the lady's pleasure ; and to 
 the conduct of Don Manuel in putting him off day by day, 
 and month after month, with puerile excuses, and without just 
 cause. 
 
 Finding that these representations failed to convince Don 
 Manuel, the chevalier threw off what little of the mask re- 
 mained; and with all the bitter recklessness of his nature, 
 drove the nail directly to the quick. He recurred to certain 
 sums of money advanced to him at the time of his flight from 
 Mexico ; and reminded him that not only he and his daughter, 
 but his whole household, were even then, day by day, sub- 
 sisting on his bounty. |v 
 , Don Manuel was stung to the soul. ' 
 
 " O my God!" he exclaimed. "What shall I say, and 
 whither shall I fly ?" 
 
 He wrung his hands, and strode across the room in the 
 agony of his wounded feelings. Don Ferdinand seemed to be 
 moved, ^, 
 
 "Forgive me," he said; "and find an apology for my 
 language in the cruel hardships of my situation. I have left 
 home, and country, and wealth, and power, for your sake and 
 that of your daughter, my affianced wife ; and here am I now, 
 after j^ears of unrewarded devotion, prostrate, and nearly slain 
 by the hand of a rival ; who, wherever we go, follows on our 
 track like a bloodhound ; like a very savage of these wilds, 
 
TEE GHOSTLY BRIDEGROOM. 253 
 
 among whom he had his origin, and of whose blood, in truth, 
 it is asserted he is ; intent on stealing from me the affections 
 of my bride. And furthermore, Don Manuel, I will plainly 
 add, that you yourself, singular as it may appear, seem to hold 
 out encouragements to that rival ; and it is whispered, indeed, 
 that you are covertly leagued with him to blast my hopes, to 
 fool, and to dishonor me." 
 
 Don Manuel did not reply, and the chevalier continued : 
 
 " If it be not so, why keep this American about you ? Why 
 daily honor him above all others, with marked attentions and 
 flattering conversations 1 And why should the Lady Viola 
 hang on his every word and smile, with such sickening fond- 
 ness, delighting in none other voice or look, forgetting her 
 betrothal and the presence of her lord ?" 
 
 " Don Ferdinand de Cassino," returned Don Manuel, in a 
 grave and impressive tone, by this time having measurably re- 
 covered his composure, " I do not forget my obligations to you r 
 would to God that I could ; or rather that I might cancel them, 
 by repaying you all you have forced upon me. I believe I 
 shall do so yet. But for this one day, let the subject, and all 
 other exciting topics, be adjourned. I can not but tremble at 
 the consequences to yourself, should this conversation be con- 
 tinued." 
 
 " Fear not," said the chevalier. " I feel strong. The 
 assassin failed in his purpose. I shall live to take my revenge 
 of him. Say that you will at once dismiss him, or that you 
 have done so alfeady : but wherever he may hide, I will, at 
 some future period, unkennel him. Dog of an Englishman, or 
 American, or Indian, as the case may be, Cassino will repay 
 him yet. Where is he nowi" 
 
 " Captain Warwick is still in the camp," replied Don 
 •Manuel. 
 
 , "Send him away instantly!" said Don Ferdinand, im- 
 ^periously. 
 
 ■v: 
 
254 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN: 
 
 " Dismiss all those questions for to-day, I beseech you," re- 
 turned Don Manuel. 
 
 "Send him off! send him off!" continued the chevalier, 
 raising his voice. "I offer it as a compromise. This day, 
 this hour, send him away, or give me Viola. I will. have one 
 or the other : and I will not any longer be trifled with." 
 
 " Captain Charles Warwick," said Don Manuel, deliberately, 
 " shall never again be treated by me with disrespect. If I am 
 indebted to you, Don Ferdinand, for gold, we are all indebted 
 to him for our lives : and while I have food or shelter, he shall 
 be welcome. He will go or stay, as he likes." 
 
 *' Don Manuel !" cried the chevalier, greatly excited, " I tell 
 you again I am not to be braved. I am a desperate man ; and 
 you have made me so. I warn you in season : the conse- 
 querces be on your own head !" 
 
 For a moment Don Manuel's eyes flashed with indignation. 
 Checking himself, however, he said : 
 
 " Your situation, young man, must furnish an apology for 
 your language. For the present I leave you, with the hope 
 that quiet and reflection will benefit both your body and your 
 mind. To-morrow, perhaps — " 
 
 " To-morrow !" echoed Don Ferdinand, raising himself on 
 his couch. "You would blind me while you consummate 
 your plans. I am strong to-day !" and again he made the 
 cabin ring with his halloo ! 
 
 But the effort was too much. The blood started afresh 
 from his side, and he sunk back on his bed in a swoon. 
 Doctor Oquetos was recalled ; and by the time his skill had 
 succeeded in restoring a partial animation, Don Manuel was 
 hastily summoned without. Thfe whole fortress was in com- 
 motion. Don Ferdinand's immediate followers were threaten- 
 ing a mutiny : and while the Spaniard was addressing some 
 hurried inquiries to Johnson, cries of revenge for their lord, 
 and death to his murderer, already saluted his ears. He at 
 
THS 0E08TLY BRIDEGROOM. 255 
 
 once ordered a call to be beat, and the men, accustomed to 
 obedience, slowly and sullenly came together. 
 
 Near one half of the forces were the immediate retainers 
 of Don Ferdinand de Cassino. Of these, some, like our ac- 
 quaintance Ambrose, had been his vassals, or those of his 
 father, from birth. On his soil they first saw the light ; and 
 had always subsisted from his hand. They came to him as a 
 part of his patrimonial estates : and the fealty they acknowl- 
 edged was that of the serfs of the middle ages. Ignorant 
 and unscrupulous, his will to them was law. To revere him 
 and to serve him, to fight for him, or to revenge him, furnished 
 them, perhaps, with the loftiest subjects of emulation which 
 the circumstances of their lives permitted. Besides, it was 
 well known to every member of the camp that Don Manuel 
 was a fallen man : and by some means it was equally well 
 understood, that on Don Ferdinand were the pay and rations 
 of all depending. It therefore needed, in the present aspect 
 of affairs, nothing more than an active tongue, and that Am- 
 brose-possessed, to stir up a tumult in the camp. 
 
 Don Manuel was glad to see that there was nothing like 
 hesitation or doubt on the part of his own followers. He had 
 expected as much ; but the confirmation of the fact cheered 
 him in the midst of his perplexities. He. cast his eyes over 
 the assembled body of men with renewed courage, and ad- 
 dressed them with confidence. He informed them that Don 
 Ferdinand, if he could be kept quiet, was in no immediate 
 danger : that with proper care his speedy recovery was to be 
 anticipated as certain. He alluded to the affray in which the 
 chevalier had been wounded, with regret. It had originated, 
 however, in a private matter, with which they had nothing to 
 do. They all knew, or ought to know, that Captain Warwick 
 was as honorable as he was brave : and there was no reason 
 whatever to suppose that any improper advantage had been 
 taken of their master. But he reserved it wholly to himself 
 
256 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEIT. 
 
 to inquire into the circumstances, and to pass judgment : and 
 pledged himself that impartial justice should be done. 
 
 With this assurance he dismissed them to their several 
 quarters ; promising them, at the same time, condign punish- 
 ment, as the reward of any further mutinous behavior. The 
 men slowly but peaceably dispersed. 
 
jtn %\xxiU'i\xtt. 
 
 A PABTING. TO THE WOODS "AGAIN. 
 
 " I leave the Hglit of eyea and light of love, 
 For night, and stars, and mountain BoUtudes.'' 
 
 WARWICK, meanwhile, remained in Don Manuel's quar- 
 ters. The Lady Viola had Jieard from his lips the de- 
 tails of the morning's rencounter; and also of his determination, 
 which that affair had hastened, to quit the Spanish camp. 
 She listened to the account he gave of the affray, with visible 
 agitation ; but when he spoke of his departure, she turned 
 white as chiseled marble. She essayed to speak, but failing 
 in the attempt, abruptly left the room. 
 
 Uncertain as to the exact impression which a knowledge 
 of the catastrophe had made on the Lady Viola ; uncertain 
 whether he should see her again, to bid her adieu, or, indeed, 
 whether it were wise to attempt it, he awaited impatiently the 
 return of Don Manuel ; but the Spaniard came not : yet in 
 his place appeared one equally welcome. It was Michael 
 Johnson, who, with his frank and sympathizing voice and face, 
 invited and received his fullest confidence. He unburdened 
 his perplexed heart to him, and was glad to know that his 
 conduct in the past, and his plans for the future, though fijaught 
 with considerable personal danger to himself, met with the old 
 man's approbation. The cheering words of the veteran gave 
 him renewed confidence and courage. He bade him trust in 
 God when man and nature should fail him, in the lonely forest, 
 surrounded by hostile savages, as in the camp ; and told him 
 
258 CAMP FIRES OB TEE RED MEN. 
 
 still to hope, even in his love. With the inspiring voice of a 
 prophet he assured him that the Lady Viola and Don Fer- 
 dinand would never be united, and that the final crisis of that 
 affair was not distant. 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by the disturbance with- 
 out, already noticed ; and Warwick perc^ved, with a deep 
 feeling of regret, that his name was coupled with the turbulent 
 movement.. He was now more than ever convinced of the 
 propriety of his decision. He could not remain a guest where 
 he had become a source of discord and violence ; and though 
 well aware that of right he might claim the protection of Do'n 
 Manuel to the last extremity, and that manifold perils, and 
 perhaps destruction, awaited his path thence, in whatever 
 direction he might go, still he did not hesitate. He would 
 become a sacrifice himself, if necessary, but he would not ac- 
 cept any such fatal offering at the hands of others. 
 
 Order having at length been restored in the encampment, 
 Don Manuel entered his quarters, and Warwick lost no time 
 in announcing to him his determination. Contrary to his 
 hopes, and almost to his expectations, the declaration was 
 received by the Spaniard with evident disappointment and 
 chagrin. 
 
 " I can not listen to the proposition," said he. " My feel- 
 ings, my honor, are at stake in this question. The sentiments 
 I entertain toward you, and the debt of gratitude common to 
 us all, by no means excepting Don Ferdinand, alike forbid it. 
 It shall be my business to maintain the peace of my establish- 
 ment ; and if hot heads like the chevalier choose to pick un- 
 seemly quarrels, they must take the consequences." :^ 
 
 Finding the attempt vain to remove the Spaniard's scruples, 
 Warwick ceased to argue the point. He knew that Don 
 Manuel possessed the affections of the camp, but he also knew 
 that Ferdinand had a sufficient number devoted to his interests 
 for purposes of mischief; and if a collision between the two 
 
VIOLA AN^D WABWIdK. 259 
 
 * 
 
 chiefs (which he thought he foresaw) must come, he perceived 
 no good reason for hastening it, or for himself becoming the 
 hinge on which it should turn. And now, could he only un- 
 bosom his soul to the Lady Viola — could he, indeed, but bid 
 her that affectionate adieu which an intimate friendship even 
 would dictate and sanction, he felt that sustained still by a 
 latent hope, a trust in the omnipotency of justice and of love, 
 he could depart in peace. But governed, as he desired every 
 act of his life should be, by a strict rule of right, he was un- 
 certain as to the course he ought to pursue. Satisfied that 
 the feelings of both father and daughter were with him instead 
 of his rival, and that, could he only sunder the bonds which 
 bound them to the chevalier, they would bless him, he was 
 still anxious to spare Viola, and doubtful of himself, and doubt- 
 ful of the extent to which he might go with propriety and 
 honor. 
 
 The shades of darkness were just embrowning the atmos- 
 phere, rendering objects shadowy and indistinct, and Warwick 
 stood in the open air, in the little unoccupied space connected 
 with the quarters of Don Manuel. An indifferent observer 
 might have supposed that he was merely enjoying the bland 
 air of the evening ; one acquainted with his determination 
 might have deemed that he was regarding the dying day as a 
 thing he might never behold again, and taking a last look at 
 tent and fortress-wall as objects which, the sense of security 
 they imparted, had imbued with unusual charms. But though 
 his eye wandered over the different points of the works and 
 the landscape, turned upon the heavens, and rested on the 
 white face of the moon, riding aloft calm and cold as a spheroid 
 of ice, his mind was occupied with a very different subject. 
 There was room in it but for one thought, and that was Viola ; 
 Iknd his soul was breathing forth those sentiments to the spirits 
 ^of the air, and to them whispering those passionate adieus 
 which he dared not utter in her presence. Suddenly, without 
 
260 CAMP FIBES OF THE BED MEJfT. 
 
 a sound, but with a dim consciousness on his part of her ap- 
 proach, Viola stood beside him. In the uncertain light he yet 
 knew that she was ghastly pale, and that her eyes were swol- 
 len and red with weeping. 
 
 " Sir Warwick," said she, in that peculiar, low, calm tone 
 which betokens the agitation it is intended to hide, " are you 
 still of the mind to leave us ?" 
 
 " Such is my intent, lady," replied Warwick. 
 
 " You once said to me," continued the Lady Viola, " that 
 your familiarity with these forests and their wild inhabitants 
 rendered you comparatively safe among them. I fear it is no 
 longer so, since you can not have failed to arouse the hostility 
 of the natives by your defense of us. Indeed, Alwyn has in- 
 formed me that were they to get you in their power, nothing 
 would save you from their vengeance." 
 
 " It is my intention and my hope," returned Warwick, " to 
 avoid them. With the knowledge I possess of the country 
 and their habits, 1 feel a strong certainty that I shall be able 
 to do so ; if not, I have yet, I think, some friends among them." 
 
 " If you must meet this danger," said Viola, " if it can not 
 be avoided, we can only rest the event with Heaven ; and it 
 will well become those whom you have so deeply served to 
 pray fervently for your safety. The house of Don Manuel 
 Torrillo, Sir Warwick, owe you that which they can never 
 repay ; and however feebly we may manifest our gratitude, T 
 trust you will do us the justice to believe that in our hearts 
 we give proper place to those sentiments which words at best 
 are but slow to express — that we look on our iVmerican friend 
 as one to whom God has given great nobility of soul, as one 
 whose kindness never tires, and whose courage and blood 
 purchased the safety of strangers whom it were far better for 
 him that he had never known. Your connection with our ill- 
 starred fortunes. Sir Warwick, has brought you nothing but 
 indignity and stripes. Oh, if you could reach your friends 
 
VIOLA AfTD WAnWICK, 261 
 
 again in New York in safety, it were better, far better, that 
 you go, and leave us here to our fate." 
 
 " Dear lady," returned Warwick, " were I not assured by 
 the unfortunate occurrences of this day that I could no longer 
 be of service to you ; that my farther presence, instead of 
 contributing to your security, would only endanger it, no con- 
 siderations would induce me to leave you. I go for your 
 sakes, as well as my own." 
 
 " Sir Warwick, you say well. It is needless to attempt to 
 gloss over the matter ; it is vain to endeavor to cover it with 
 a vail. You have shed your blood for us ; for us you have 
 made sacrifices without number or stint; and now, when, "as 
 it seems, we may need you no longer, we in effect bid you 
 begone, and turn you out alone to brave those terrible dangers 
 from which we have so narrowly and mercifully escaped. O 
 that you but knew the cruel destiny that binds us ! O that 
 you might read and understand our hearts !" 
 
 " Viola, dear Viola \ You distress yourself unnecessarily* 
 Circumstances entirely beyond the control of your father or 
 yourself have rendered it improper, or at leas't unwise, for me 
 longer to remain your guest. Therefore, I go. But grieve 
 not, and fear not, dear madam. The great God is over us all, 
 to protect us. I tear myself from you ; and the expectation 
 that you may be benefited is my only consolation for the sacri- 
 fice ; and to this, Viola, may I add the hope, that when away 
 I shall not be forgotten ?" 
 
 *' You may ! you may !" quickly returned the distressed and 
 agitated girl. 
 
 " Would, Viola, that I might say more. Within the hour I 
 go, and may never see you again. Must I depart without one 
 word on the great subject of my thoughts — -a subject which I 
 am powerless to dismiss, which is wedded to my being as a 
 part of itself, and must ever thus remain ? Would to God that 
 this bosom were laid open that you might know its feelings ' 
 
263 " CAMP FIRES OF TEF RED MEK 
 
 And why may they not be spoken 1 There is, in truth, noth- 
 ing natural or divine to forbid it. Viola ! I love you ; ardently, 
 fondly, truly ! I would clasp you to my heart, and cherish you 
 there- forever !" 
 
 Sudden and impassioned as was this declaration, it proved 
 too much for the delicate nerves of the Lady Viola, already 
 strained to their utmost tension. Her head drooped, her 
 breathing was interrupted, she tottered, and would have fallen 
 at the feet of her lover, had he not supported her. For a mo- 
 ment she was circled in his arms, and her head lay passively 
 upon his breast. 
 
 " Viola ! dear Viola !" said Warwicjt, in alarm. " Have I 
 frightened you ? Forgive me ! I would not shock you, I 
 would not agitate your feelings : but this moment, perhaps, is 
 the very pivot of my life. I ask no avowal of any kind from 
 you. I shall continue to watch over you as the mother over 
 her child : I must continue to love you, for I jfind myself 
 powerless to dismiss you from my heart : and I shall look to 
 the great unknown future and its changes, dear Viola; and not 
 without hope." 
 
 " Oh, this is too much, Charles," said the Lady Viola, 
 faintly, releasing herself from his support ; " you should have 
 spared me this. Know you not, indeed, that T am the betrothed 
 of another ? But go, now : I forgive you. After this, it is 
 doubtless better that we should part." 
 
 " And can you, Viola, add your forgiveness for all the yn^ 
 fortunate events of this day V ,^^. _ 
 
 " I do— I do." 
 
 " And have you no memento that I can look upon when cold 
 and interminable leagues divide us V 
 
 *' I had brought this ring, Charles ; but I know not now if a 
 gift would be proper from me. Yes, it shall be yours : it was 
 my mother's, and surely may be given to him who saved the 
 life of her child." 
 
rrOLA AND WARWICK. 263 
 
 Warwick took the little hand which presented the offering 
 in his, and pressed it passionately to his lips. Without another 
 word, but with one wild, prolonged, and despairing look, the 
 lovers separated. 
 
 It was now fully dark. The American found Alwyn and 
 Michael Johnson awaiting him at the gate of the fortress ; 
 and the three passed out in silence. Alwyn was to be his 
 companion ; and Johnson, loth to part from one who had 
 wound himself so deeply into his affections, accompanied 
 them for some distance down the mountain. Finally they 
 sat down in the desolate but beautiful wood, beautiful even in 
 the gloom of night, and there prolonged their adieus for an . 
 hour or more ; during which the past and the future were 
 freely and narrowly canvassed. At last the old man arose. 
 He felt that the flying hours might be important to his young 
 friend. Warwick sent a kind message of farewell to Don 
 Manuel ; and left it to Johnson to mollify his feelings and con- 
 vince him of the propriety of the step he had taken. The old 
 man wrung his hand convulsively at parting. 
 
 " God bless you, my boy !" said he. " The Lord God Je- 
 hovah bless, and keep you from harm in the wilderness ! Be 
 watchful and prudent, and a brighter day will come ; for it is 
 not in nater that night should last always. Farewell, my boy, 
 farewell !" 
 
 Warwick and his young Indian attendant slowly and dis- 
 consolately, but yet not wholly comfortless, kept on down the 
 mountain, while the veteran Johnson returned to the camp. 
 
THE FADING LILY. THE ISLAND AND ITS SYLVAN HAUNTS. 
 
 " Friendships that now in death are hushed, 
 And young affections broken chain, 
 And hopes that fate too quickly crushed. 
 In memory live again." 
 
 SEVERAL, days passed in comparative q«iet at the Spanish 
 quarters. t)oi\ Manuel, who was greatly disturbed at the 
 abrupt departure of Charles Warwick, had, in a good degree, 
 recovered his equanimity ; while the chevalier Cassino, sooth- 
 ed by the event which had distressed his colleague, professed 
 a laudable submission to the'fates, and was rapidly recovering 
 from his wounds. The indications at the mine were full of 
 encouragement; the few Indians who presented themselves 
 seemed friendly and well disposed, and kept the carap pretty 
 well supplied with corn and vegetables ; game was abundant ; 
 and, in short, every thing about the fortress, on the mountain, 
 and in the valleys beyond, wore an aspect of security and 
 peace ; and with the American, every element of discord 
 seemed to have departed. The Lady Viola alone appeared 
 an exception to the general cheerfulness. But patient and re- 
 tiring by nature, her disquietude manifested itself more in the 
 increased pallor of her complexion, and the loss of elasticity 
 in her step, than in her words or actions. She was still kind 
 and gentle as before, and strove hard, especially when in her 
 father's presence, for that life and buoyancy of spirits which 
 had fled away, she knew not whither, and would not come 
 b«ck at her call. 
 
TITE FADING LILY. 265 
 
 Don Manuel noted with pain the daily change in his child ; 
 and strove to occupy her mind and to amuse her by the con- 
 trivance of every little pleasure which their isolated situation 
 would permit. Formerly he would have considered her 
 malady the effect of hardships, or of the exchange of the mel- 
 low airs of her father-land for the rougher breezes of the 
 north : but the experience of the last few months had opened 
 to him several new and important chapters in the history of 
 the female heart. He watched his fading flower day by day; 
 and as he perceived, in spite of all her efforts, a settled gloom 
 gathering on her features, or as some unwilling glance of her 
 eye exposed to him the fearful forebodings which lay heavy 
 at her heart, he referred her ailment to the proper source— to 
 disgust of life at the prospect of a union with Don Ferdinand 
 de Cassino; and regrets, though she might not own them even 
 to herself, for one no longer present. 
 
 The chivalrous Ruby O'Brady, with a woman's quickness, 
 also understood the nature of the pangs which were rending 
 the breast of her mistress ; and did every thing possible in 
 her simple way to soothe and encourage her. In her anxious 
 endeavor, she even ventured to allude to the subject of her 
 mistress' disquiet, in the forlorn expectation that she might be 
 able to revive the wick of hope, which she perceived flicker- 
 ing and about to expire. But the favorite attendant was dis- 
 appointed. The delicate question was forbidden ; and Ruby 
 found herself obliged to rel}^ on indirect eflx)rts to accomplish 
 her benevolent purposes. 
 
 Shut out from the ordinary occupations and pleasures of 
 life, there was still much in the wild scenery which surrounded 
 the fortress to interest a mind capable of appreciating the 
 beauty and grandeur of nature. These yet, while other sour- 
 ces of enjoyment had faded, retained their hold on the Lady 
 Viola : and a ramble on the mountain, or in the vales below, 
 ^as aworg the Ihost successful of the expedients devised io 
 """" ^"^ ' ' ^ " " 12' 
 
266 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 withdraw her from herself. The songs of the birds, and the 
 gambols of the deer, which, in this primitive region, were fear- 
 lessly performed in her path; the gathering of wild flowers, 
 and the climbing of the rocks where the sweetest ones grew ; 
 the listening to the music of a waterfall in some glen ; or a 
 stroll along the embowered banks of the Susquehanna, served, 
 at least for the hour, to dim the recollection of the sorrows 
 which they could not heal. The little island, already men- 
 tioned, lying so dreamily on the bosom of the river, with its 
 gentle sloping shores and quiet shades, which looked like 
 proper haunts for the naiads and the fauns, had often at- 
 tracted her attention. Don Manuel had it explored ; and the 
 report being favorable, an expedition was determined to its 
 shadowy retreats. 
 
 Don Ferdinand, though still feeble, was able to make one 
 of the party. On reaching the Susquehanna, it was found 
 that the slight float and poles already prepared were amply 
 sufEcient to convey them in safety across the narrow channel 
 which intervened between the mainland and the islet. As 
 they landed on its pebbly beach, and the fairy prospect burst 
 upon their view, a glow of pleasure diffused itself through the 
 dullest breast ; and each disposed himself for the enjoyment 
 of the hour. Michael Johnson and Hugh O'Brady secured 
 the craft on which depended their return ; while Solyman, 
 hale of his wounds, and proud that they had been gained 
 in the defense of his mistress, exhibited a series of little 
 gallantries addressed to his compatriot on that memorable 
 occasion, the maiden Ruby. Doctor Oquetos and Father 
 Antonio, without loss of time, struck off* into their accustomed 
 field ; and were soon at profound loggerheads on some question 
 of science connected with the island, and wandering alone, 
 without regard to the rest, they knew not whither. 
 
 " This is indeed a lovely spot," said the Lady Viola, gazing 
 around with a momentary rapture as they gained the ^height 
 
TffE FADnrG LTI.Y. 267 
 
 of the bank. " Here, inethinks, could the weary of life find 
 rest, as in the paradise of old." 
 
 The island contained perhaps some fifty acres of rich al- 
 luvial ; and the profuse vegetation which it produced was of 
 the most verdant hue ; and varied in kind by the thousand dif- 
 ferent seeds and roots, which the floods in successive ages 
 had deposited on its shores. The trees were few in number, 
 but majestic in size. In form and appearance they were quite 
 different from their spear-like fellows of the forest. Each 
 massive trunk supported a wide wilderness of its own, witl* 
 horizontal branches, often of the size of goodly trees them- 
 selves. There stood a venerable sycamore, stretching aloft 
 its bare white arms, as though deprecating the winds and the 
 lightnings ; by its side grew the humble thorn ; and a little 
 way beyond was a delicious grove of alder, hazel, and sweet 
 birch. There a wide-spread weeping-willow, with graceful 
 curves, bowed its plenteous foliage almost to the ground, and 
 waved its thread-like boughs to the stirring of the gentlest 
 breeze. Again, a towering elm stretched proudly to the sky; 
 and pendent from its top hung a vine, which for many years, 
 with the patient instinct of its nature, had been occupied vt 
 climbing up the toilsome ascent ; but at length, the de 
 sired altitude having been attained, and its tendrils and stalki 
 firmly clasped to the topmost branches of its gallant sup 
 port, it had scornfed and thrown off its lower holds, and 
 now hung free to the root, creaking as it swayed to and 
 fro. 
 
 *' Yes, truly this is a beautiful spot," said Don Manuel, in 
 reply to the observation of his daughter. " Not only might 
 the anchorite here find a fitting retreat, but the man of the 
 world could hardly fail to be fascinated by this happy isle, and 
 charmed into a love of solitude and nature. But see those 
 clusters of the wild grape, Viola, and those plums. When 
 they ripen I will have them gathered and added to our stores, 
 
S68 CAMP Fluids OF Tim BED MEN. 
 
 and so cheat the birds of a repast which, perhaps, they have 
 enjoyed undisturbed for centuries." 
 
 "Oh, what a tiny, beautiful deer!" exclairried the Lady Viola, 
 pointing a little way off to a hillock where a fawn was grazing. 
 
 " It seems to be alone," said Johnson. " Perhaps I can 
 catch it ; shall I try, lady ?" 
 
 " If you please, good Michael," returned Viola ; " but do 
 not hurt it." 
 
 The conversation ceased, in order to witness the result of 
 the experiment which the old hunter proposed ; while he, ac- 
 customed to the habits of the animal and the wiles of the hunt, 
 accomplished his purpose before they were hardly aware he 
 had commenced. Concealing himself in some bushes near 
 by, he imitated the call of its dam, when the little animal with 
 a bound threw itself almost into his arms. Securing it ten- 
 derly with a handkerchief, he placed it a moment after, its 
 eyes tearful and its heart throbbing as though ready to burst 
 from its breast, at the Lady Viola's feet. 
 
 She admired the graceful form and taper ears of her sen- 
 sitive captive, and passing her hand fondly over its smooth 
 and variegated skin, attempted to sooth it with kind words and 
 gentle endearments. 
 
 " I would gladly make a pet of you, my pretty prisoner," 
 said she, '• were you not so fearful. But as it is, Michael, I 
 think we shall have to give it its freedom again." 
 
 " As you please, lady," returned the veteran ; " but under 
 your kind care it would soon forget its fears, and would show 
 an affection in its little nater which might shame many a wiser 
 creater. It seems to have lost its mother, which most likely 
 has been shot by some of our thoughtless sodger boys to fur- 
 nish food for the camp, and probably would be better off with 
 you than to be left alone, so young, to shift for itself." 
 
 The animal was accordingly given into the hands of Soly- 
 ►" man to conduct to the camp. 
 
THE MYSTERY AND BEAUTY OF LOGICAL ARGUMENTATION. A SURPRISE. 
 " Who shall decide when doctors disagree ?" 
 
 HAVING rambled over a large part of the island with much 
 satisfaction and delight, on turning a little thicket the ears 
 of the party were suddenly saluted with a loud jargon of 
 words ; and on approaching the spot whence the sounds pro- 
 ceeded, they discovered Doctor Oquetos and Father Antonio 
 sitting on the grass, and tilting at each other more lustily than 
 ever, in the bloodless but never-ending tourney of argumenta- 
 tion. The excitement between the veteran gladiators was so 
 great that all felt curious to ascertain the nature of the im 
 portant questions which had produced it, and became interested 
 listeners. 
 
 " I must maintain," said Doctor Oquetos, taking occasion 
 of so large an increase of auditors to reiterate his point, " that 
 these globular vegetable substances which I hold in my hand 
 are veritable peas ; yes, culinary peas ; and cultivation, rever- 
 end sir, would soon demonstrate the identity." 
 
 " I can not admit the correctness of your position," returned 
 Father Antonio. " As I observed before, these vegetables are 
 bitter and unpalatable ; and it were insulting nature and the 
 Creator to suppose that an article of nutrition so important to 
 the human and lower animal economy as peas came from the 
 Divine hand in such a crude and imperfect condition." 
 
 " Cultivation ! cultivation !" shouted the unyielding doctor, 
 " would soon bring them to their beautiful proportions, their 
 
270 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 proper size and flavor. Man's labor is intended to perfect 
 what nature doth but begin. Think ye, that when man, having 
 fallen from his primeval state, in which the earth yielded him 
 spontaneously whatever was necessary for the supply of his 
 physical wants, was condemned to liv^e by the sweat of his 
 brow, that there was nothing provided for him to do ?" 
 
 " Well — peas !" said the divine. 
 
 " Peas !" reiterated the doctor. " All esculent roots, and 
 grains, and fruits were conferred by an all-wise Providence on 
 the world in such a state as to compel obedience to the com- 
 mandment. Man must toil before he can enjoy them. They 
 must have the plow, the hoe, the pruning-knife ; and the ap- 
 plication of manures which, by chemical processes known to 
 the subtile alchemy of nature, work potently but unseen ; in 
 short, the sweat of man, like the dews of heaven, must fall 
 upon them before they are fitted to his wants. And thus we 
 find here in the wildernesses of America, where civilized man 
 and the arts of culture are unknown, the embryo pea ; and 
 doubtless were we to search these forests with a careful, 
 scientific scrutiny, we should discover also the embryos of 
 most of our grains and fruits and roots, awaiting the cunning 
 skill of the husbandman to refine, develop, and perfect them." 
 
 " Well, well," said Father Antonio, quickly. " I admit in 
 part — peas " 
 
 " Peas !" screamed Doctor Oquetos, raising his shrill voice 
 to such a pitch as effectually to put down his plethoric and 
 somewhat exhausted opponent, and at the same time appealing 
 to his listeners by a gesture and a most bland glance of satis- 
 faction. " As to the other point, diluvian or not ? that is the 
 question. Was this island on which we now stand, or was it 
 not, formed at the time of the general deluge 1 I affirm it was. 
 The reverend father maintains the contrary. The demonstra- 
 tion of the affirmative is easy, the modus operandi clear. It 
 will take but a minute — was then and there heaped up ! — ebbs 
 
A SURPRISE. 271 
 
 and flows ! — large masses of water ! — receding of the floods ! 
 — wuh ! wuh /" 
 
 The learned gentleman here discovered that he was losing 
 himself, and paused to collect his thoughts and get a little 
 breath. His crest-fallen opponent, however, was in no con- 
 dition to take advantage of this accident to the battery of his 
 opponent, and the doctor accordingly proceeded : 
 
 " In proof of my position, I have already sought out and sub- 
 mitted to our spiritual father these specimens of stone con- 
 taining marine shells, which, I take it, furnish a very satis- 
 factory proof that the sea has at some time flowed here ; unless 
 we choose to suppose the absurdity, not too gross, perhaps, for 
 some minds, that this veritable island has in some unheard-of 
 manner, and at some period of time, been loosed from its 
 eternal foundations, and been made to travel to the ocean, in 
 order to possess itself of these unquestionable saline produc- 
 tions which I now hold in my hand." 
 
 The speaker here, with an air of proud triumph, submitted 
 to the inspection of the company several fragments of stone, 
 presenting on their broken surfaces apparent impressions of 
 shells. 
 
 Father Antonio, meanwhile, was making a last dying effort 
 to collect his energies for a reply. But the ground gone over 
 by the doctor, since he had been permitted to respond, was so 
 extensive, that he hesitated, not knowing properly where to 
 begin ; and the delay was fatal to his purpose. His expert 
 adversary had no intention of relinquishing the advantage 
 which he flattered himself he had gained in the argument ; he 
 therefore took the half-formed words out of the divine's mouth 
 and himself continued : 
 
 " Beside^, if you please, observe the rounded pebbles that 
 strew the beach so thickly on every side. The motion of the 
 sea could alone have worn them smooth and formed the con- 
 vexity of their surfacos." 
 
272 CAMP FIRES OF TUB RED MEN. 
 
 " Would not fresh water produce those effects as well 1" 
 inquired the Lady Viola. 
 
 The doctor appeared slightly puzzled for a moment ; but, 
 like a skillful tactician as he was, cleared the dilemma by a 
 nimble skip to a new point. 
 
 " See there !" said he, pointing* to a pile of flood-wood which 
 had accumulated in a hollow on the upper portion of the island, 
 and not far from the spot where they were. " The hand of 
 man never placed those many monarchs of the forest in their 
 present bed. They have been torn from their foundations, 
 and thus deposited by the mighty throes of our common 
 mother, nature." 
 
 " To. what age of the world would you refer the event ?" 
 said the Lady Viola. 
 
 " Oh ! ah, my dear madam," replied the doctor, with a slight 
 hesitation ; " unquestionably to the same period of which I 
 have before spoken ; to that era which gave form to the sur- 
 face of our earth, as we now have it. Unfortunately the pre- 
 cise date of the deluge is not quite settled, being still a subject 
 of controversy with our profoundest chronologists." 
 
 " But, Doctor Oquetos," said Viola, laughing, " how do you 
 account for the preservation of those trees for such a length 
 of time] Our books and experience teach us that all vegetable 
 matter, when exposed to the action of the weather, to alternate 
 rain and sun, rapidly decays." 
 
 The learned doctor did not appear to perceive the full 
 force of the remark ; or, if he did, it was no part of his sys- 
 tem of tactics to retreat. Accordingly he gallantly pushed 
 ahead. 
 
 " You must have noticed, my dear lady," said he, " a pecu- 
 liar preserving quality in this northern American atmosphere, 
 rendering it a very different thing from the air of Spain. 
 Meats here are readily preserved from putrefaction without 
 packing in salt, as our experience with venison shows. Had 
 
A SURPRISE. 273 
 
 we time, I think I might explain the philosophy of this to your 
 entire satisfaction." 
 
 " We \fill pass that point, then," returned the Lady Viola. 
 " But as to the island, would it not be quite reasonable to sup- 
 pose that it is the remains of an eminence which has thus far 
 withstood the action of the surrounding water ; or that it has 
 been left above the surface of the river by the gradual deep- 
 ening of the river's bed in the softer earth around it ; or, as is 
 still more probable, perhaps, that at the time of some flood — 
 not a Noah's flood — it was cut from one of the banks by the 
 forcing of an additional channel ?" 
 
 " Perhaps so, perhaps so," replied the doctor, with the air 
 of a man who retreats from a sound position from motives of 
 gallantry. " Such explanations of the great phenomena of 
 nature, however, can hardly be expected to satisfy the scien- 
 tific mind. That looks higher, deeper, and broader, and can 
 not rest until it holds in its grasp the mysterious arcana of 
 the universe. My profound knowledge of geology, madam, 
 enables me to decide with certainty many questions which for 
 centuries have distracted the entire learned world ; and " 
 
 " I wish this senseless jargon might be brought to a close," 
 said Don Ferdinand, pettishly. " Viola has been talking like 
 a university professor, and Doctor Oquetos like a fool, for the 
 last half hour. I am exhausted and sick ; and if we are to 
 have any refreshments, I would like them brought forth." 
 
 The Lady Viola, who, for the time, seemed equally to have 
 forgotten the presence of Don Ferdinand and her own sad 
 thoughts, was brought back to perfect consciousness by the 
 chevalier's remark. Doctor Oquetos was enraged. He, 
 however, with the help of the good Father Antonio, who, for- 
 getting his own discomfiture in his office of comforter, came 
 to the rescue with words of soothing, succeeded in smother- 
 ing his chagrin. A spot of grass beneath an umbrageous 
 shade was selected, and the refreshments were spread out on 
 - 12* 
 
274 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 the ground. Don Manuel, pleased that his daughter had ex- 
 hibited an interest in the little events of the day, and rejoiced 
 to know that any thing was able to arouse her from the list- 
 lessness which had latterly oppressed her, was in excellent 
 spirits; and even Don Ferdinand, as some bottles of choice 
 wine, which still remained of their New York stores, were 
 uncorked, was forced, apparently much against his will, into 
 the semblance of cheerfulness. 
 
 " Where can good Michael be ?" at length inquired Lady 
 Viola, as the lunch was ended. Ah, yonder he is hard at 
 work. Let us see, father, what he is doing." 
 
 The party accordingly proceeded to the spot indicated, and 
 examined with some curiosity the mysterious labors of the old 
 man, the object of which no one of them was able to divine. 
 He had divided, a short distance from toe ground, a famous 
 grape-vine, which now hung like a rope cable suspended from 
 the top of a leaning elm. To the end of this he was about 
 fastening a sort of basket made of twigs and bark, which fur- 
 nished a safe and comfortable seat. When his arrangements 
 were completed, he proceeded to demonstrate practically the 
 uses for which the contrivance was intended. Depositing 
 himself in the wicker basket, he called on O'Brady to aid him 
 in procuring a suitable momentum, and was soon sweeping 
 through the air at a startling rate, performing a vibratory 
 movement like a pendulum for the distance of some fifty or 
 sixty feet. . All were delighted at the exhibition of a swing 
 on so grand a scale ; and each in turn seated himself in it to 
 share in the novel diversion. 
 
 But the Lady Viola, finding the exercise of too rough and 
 startling a nature for her enjoyment, soon relinquished the 
 mammoth toy to the pleasure of the rest ; and with her at- 
 tendant, Ruby, strolled away, to revel in the rich prospects, 
 the bowers and flowers, which the scenery on every side pre- 
 sented. Very shortly they found themselves in the shelter of 
 
A SURPRISE. 2lfb 
 
 a little grove, but had hardly commenced their collection of 
 wild flowers and fragrant herbs, some of them bearing fruit — > 
 the lady's slipper, the violet, the thyme, the wintergreen, the 
 sand cherry — when they were startled by a slight noise, and 
 looking up, the young Indian, Alwyn, stood before them. He 
 dropped himself gracefully on one knee; and silently held up 
 to view a ring, once the Lady Viola's, but now or late belong- 
 ing to Captain Warwick. 
 
 " He is dead," said Viola, faintly, 
 
 " No, no !" replied the savage, quickly, " well !" and with 
 difficulty so as to be intelligible, he added, " Love to the white 
 bird." 
 
 " Pale and trembling, the Lady Viola was obliged to lean 
 on the faithful Ruby for support. She found herself greatly 
 perplexed to interpret clearly the occurrence, and the some- 
 what disconnected words which Alwyn had uttered. On the 
 contrary, to Ruby the import was clear as day. Warwick 
 was well. He had sent the ring as a token that the messen- 
 ger came from him, and might be trusted. He was well, and 
 had sent his love, and doubtless would expect some message 
 in return. 
 
 The Lady Viola was too much agitated to speak. Her 
 hair in the confusion had escaped from the bands which held 
 it, and her attendant was endeavoring to replace it ; while 
 Alwyn, maintaining his respectful posture, gazed on her face 
 with a mingled expression of sympathy and admiration. See- 
 ing her mistress speechless. Ruby inquired : 
 
 " Where is your master, Alwyn ?" 
 
 The Indian pointed away into the deep forest. 
 
 " Come when needed," said he, very deliberately, as though 
 he had committed the phrase to memory. " White bird any 
 
 message 
 
 ?" 
 
 Viola answered not. With Ruby's assistance she seated 
 herself on a little mossy knoll, where, burying her face in her 
 
276 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 hands, she seemed lost in conflicting emotions. Her attend- 
 ant was of a different cast of character, and fitted, as has been 
 seen, for prompt action in emergencies. Fearing that Alwyn 
 might be discovered, in the urgency of the moment she whipped 
 out her scissors, and clipping a ringlet from her mistress* 
 flowing tresses, placed it in the hands of the savage. 
 
 " We are well," said she. " Tell Captain Warwick that 
 we are all well, and that my mistrsss has not forgotten him." 
 
 Alwyn appeared to take in the import of her words. He 
 received the precious token with the most profound respect, 
 and placing it in his bosom, vanished among the bushes al- 
 most as though he had been a shadow. , 
 
 The Lady Viola, but half conscious of what her maid was 
 doing, for the moment did not chide. Her mind and feelings 
 were 'in a whirl ; but among the wild and tumultuous thoughts 
 of her heart there was assuredly one bright and definite idea. 
 It was the knowledge that Warwick still lived, and was near 
 her. This assurance re-lit the expiring lamp of hope in her 
 breast, which diffused its warming influence through her physi- 
 cal frame ; and from that hour her cheek began to glow again, 
 the wreathed smiles to play about her lips, and her eyes to 
 sparkle as she spoke. 
 
 The day being pretty well advanced, the party shortly after, 
 with a keen remembrance of the island and its charming 
 haunts, returned to the encampment. 
 
tx ffeirtg-si^. 
 
 TRADITIONS OP BEND MCJtlNTAIN. AN EPISODE, ON WHICH HINGES THE FINAL' 
 DENOUEMENT OP THE PLOT. JOACHIM BLAZO AND HIS DREAMS. 
 
 " Bom. I dreamt a dream to-night. 
 Her. And so did I. 
 
 Rom. "Well, what was yours ? 
 Her. That dreamers often He. 
 
 Bom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things true.' 
 
 "VrOW it came to pass, on a certain night, that the leaders 
 -L-i of the Spanish party were suddenly aroused from their 
 slumbers by a great uproar in the camp. On going out to as- 
 certain the cause, they found themselves in a perfect bedlam 
 of disorder and confusion. Some of the men were cursing, 
 some were groaning, and others quaking and speechless with 
 affright, while several were discovered with their garments 
 torn in tatters, and wounded and bleeding. 
 
 Don Manuel at first supposed that another mutiny might 
 have broken forth : Johnson and Don Ferdinand were - dis- 
 posed to view the proceeding as a quarrel or riot among the 
 men ; but no one could be found to explain the real cause of 
 the disturbance. In reply to the questions asked, one talked 
 incoherently of ghosts, another of demons, and another of con- 
 jurors and enchantments. Completely at fault, but satisfied 
 at length that no actual rebellion was intended. Doctor Oque- 
 tos was summoned to look after the broken heads and limbs, 
 and the further maintaining of order for the night placed in 
 charge of the prudent Johnson. 
 
 On the morrow, a sort of court of investigation was con- 
 vened, and the affair sifted, with the following result : 
 
278 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEK 
 
 The most ignorant man in the fortress, without a doubt, 
 though possessed of some education, which not many of his 
 companions could boast, was an old Spaniard called Joachim 
 Blazo. He, from a certain air of gravity, and the utterance 
 of occasional wise saws, which a pretty retentive memory had 
 enabled him to garner, had been elevated by his admirers into 
 a man of some consequence. There were those who deemed 
 his sayings oracles ; and followed after him, and gathered 
 them, as though they were falling manna : and even his con- 
 tradictions and blunders, on a careful scrutiny, were found by 
 these persons to be made up of spontaneous offshoots of 
 wisdom. 
 
 For a long time also, indeed, from the moment the 
 Spaniards set foot on the mysterious mountain and struck 
 shovel in its side, a strange influence had seemed to rest upon 
 them. The mere fact that their leaders, while yet in distant 
 Mexico, had in some manner gained a knowledge of this hill, 
 and afterward had been drawn to it through a long stretch of 
 pathless woods, as by a loadstone, was sufficient to furnish a 
 foundation for their wonder. The feeling was increased by 
 the evidences before them that the mine had been previously 
 wrought: and a thousand wild speculations still added to its 
 mtensity. Who were the adventurers that had preceded 
 them, and what had been their fate ? Had they realized for- 
 tunes on which they retired to live in luxurious ease 1 Had 
 they utterly failed? or, having succeeded in grasping the 
 glittering treasure, were they finally cut off by the savages, 
 perishing in the midst of wealth which proved pow^erless to 
 protect them "^ 
 
 The Indians were questioned after their traditionary lore, 
 but with little success. Something, however, was supposed 
 to have been learned from this source, which gave weight to 
 the favorite opinion, that bloodshed and disaster had thus far 
 marked the history of the mountain and the mine. Gradually 
 
JOACHIM BLAZO AKD HIS DREAMS. 279 
 
 a connected tale was woven ; and it came to be very generally 
 reported and believed, that others had dug where they were 
 digging, and had succeeded in accumulating great riches ; but, 
 falling out among themselves, and quarreling with the natives, 
 they were mostly destroyed : that those who remained alive 
 were insufficient to bear away their treasures, and so buried 
 them in the mine. Thus was the filling up of the assumed 
 excavation accounted for. 
 
 Joachim Blazo was the center around which the credulous 
 and wonder-loving delighted to gather ; and about these days 
 he took it upon him to dream a dream. 
 
 He dreamed that a tall and dignified but swarthy personage, 
 wrapped in a robe of rich furs, and wearing on his head a 
 crown of wampum, dyed feathers, and gold, appeared to him : 
 and after eyeing him intently for some minutes, with a pair of 
 most luminous black orbs, said : that he was the ghost of an 
 ancient Indian King, who had formerly reigned with great 
 power and magnificence in those parts ; that on a certain time, 
 while he was yet in the body, a company of pale men, 
 strangers, children of the sun, suddenly made their appearance 
 «in his dominions, and took possession of that very mountain, 
 and formed their camp on the identical spot now occupied by 
 Joachim and his companions : that he and his people were 
 alarmed, and suspected that they intended to found an empire 
 of their own ; but afterward discovered that their object was 
 to rifle the heart of the hill of its hidden treasures : that these 
 strangers controlled the thunders and the lightnings, so that 
 their dwelling-place on the mountain was often in a blaze, and 
 overhung with a canopy of smoke, while the earth shook with 
 the violence of the concussions ; and he dared not interfere 
 with them : that ultimately they fell out with one another, 
 about the division of their spoils ; and day and night, for six 
 courses of the sun, fought among themselves, until most of 
 them were slain : that havingr become thus weakened, he and 
 
280 CAMP FIBES OF TEE RED MEK 
 
 his people fell on them by surprise, and made prisoners of the 
 remainder : that not fully understanding the value of the gold, 
 he caused the bars, to an untold amount, to be piled in the 
 depths of the mine, covered them with the dead bodies ; and 
 compelled the captives, chained to their own barrows, to bury 
 their companions ; and afterward to fill up the entire excava- 
 tion : that two years of constant labor were devoted to this 
 purpose ; when the prisoners were suffered to depart : that 
 finally, in the fullness of time, he himself died, being old and 
 well stricken in years ; and now, for many moons and many 
 winters and summers, his soul had been alternately suffering 
 the pains of purgatory, and wandering on the earth ; awaiting 
 the appearance thereon of one Joachim Blazo, a just man ; 
 who, it was decreed in the records of fate, should restore to 
 the world the treasures he had ignorantly buried ; and give to 
 the bones lying therewith, the rights of Christian sepulture; 
 when his perturbed spirit would be at rest. 
 
 The dead King did not seem to have finished his relation , 
 but Joachim here became so much elated at the prospect of 
 sudden wealth, that he awoke : and of course, through or not, 
 the shade was compelled by the accident to cease his reve- 
 lations, and take his departure. Old Blazo rubbed his eyes 
 and looked about him ; but it was intently dark in his tent, so 
 that in case the apparition still remained, he had no chance 
 whatever of seeing him. He was of a mind to arise and 
 light a torch, but luckily bethought himself in season that the 
 inhabitants of the other world are not reputed to be par- 
 ticularly partial to fire : so, after a little reflection, he came to 
 the wise conclusion to compose himself again to rest, and let 
 the spirit of the Indian King deal with him in his own way. 
 
 But he courted the poppy-god in vain. Sleep fled from his 
 eyes and slumber from his eyelids ; and the more he wooed 
 the drowsy snorer, the more he could not find him. The 
 flanks of his imagination had been touched by a spur, which 
 
JOACHIM BLAZO AND HIS DREAMS. 281 
 
 set it cantering quite beyond his control ; and in spite of him- 
 self, visions of grandeur and display for his latter days floated 
 in brilliant perspective before him ; fully bent, in defiance of 
 consequences, on keeping him awake. More than once he 
 pictured out minutely before the eyes of his fancy his future 
 palace, his train of servants, and his equipage : and diving 
 into the bowels of the hill, with a yard-stick in his hand, and 
 great gusto and deliberation, he took the dimensions of the 
 mass of yellow ingots, as though it had been cord-wood. 
 
 But it was indeed an unlucky slip, a very unfortunate 
 omission, that the precise spot where this immense amount 
 of treasure lay had not been designated. As things now 
 stood, he might dig a month, nay, for that matter, all his life- 
 time, without at last being able to discover it. He blamed his 
 own precipitancy, and cursed that spirit of vanity which had 
 puffed him so full as to awake him just at the critical moment, 
 when the important knowledge, to all appearance, was about 
 to have been committed to his charge. Next, in a fit of des- 
 peration, He fell to finding fault with the dead King. Had he, 
 like a decent ghost, instead of spinning him a long yarn about 
 his own performances both in the body and out, just come to 
 the point at once — had he but begun at the other end of his 
 story, and introducing him to the place, the particular locality 
 in the mine, pointed, even with the little end of his little finger, 
 and said : 
 
 " Sir Joachim, thou pure man, beneath that stone (or log 
 or spot of earth, as the case might be) lieth an immense pile 
 of golden treasure. Give Christian burial to the bones that 
 molder there, and the whole is yours." 
 
 " Bravo !" exclaimed Joachim, " that would have done the 
 business, and his ghostship might have finished his story at 
 some other time." 
 
 But ghosts, like other folks, are sometimes fond of having 
 their own way ; and as it was already growing light from the 
 
^283 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEK 
 
 proximity of day, old Blazo gave up the idea of further revela- 
 tions for that time, and comforted himself v^^ith the thought 
 that no well-informed and sensible spirit would suffer himself 
 to be balked of his purpose by so small a matter as a mortal's 
 awaking from sleep a moment too soon. 
 
 During the succeeding day Joachim was a very different 
 man from what he had ever been before. He worked but 
 little, appeared absent and thoughtful, and kept himself aloof 
 from his companions, who wondered much thereat ; and it was 
 noticed that the bending down to the shovel or the barrow 
 seemed to give him pain. His fellows judged he must be 
 troubled with a crick in his back, so kindly performed his 
 labor for him, and inquired after his -ailment. But he, like a 
 prudent man, kept silent ; or, if he spoke at all, it was in 
 parables, which, for the once, they could not read, and high- 
 sounding words which came nigh to displease them. By-and- 
 by, as it was seen that he went out one side, and seemed to 
 be practicing the airs and attitudes of a gentlemen, some ^ 
 there were who feared he was becoming demented, and sor- 
 rowed on his account- 
 But Joachim Blazo, had he known it, would have scorned 
 their compassion. Impatiently did he long for night again, 
 and doubted not that, in the mysterious passages of sleep, the 
 good ghost would again appear and finish the work he had 
 begun. 
 
 At length, after an almost interminable delay, night came, 
 and he went to bed, and finally slept. Again the vision ap- 
 peared. Again the Indian King stood before him, clothed in 
 furs and gold, and again commenced the narration of his story. 
 Much to Joachim's disappointment, he went back to the very 
 beginning ; and he thought there was a loftiness of bearing 
 about him, almost amounting to haughtiness, which he did not 
 notice before ; and he referred it to disappointment, and per- 
 haps dissatisfaction at the result of his previous visit. Trou- 
 
JOACBIM BLAZO AN^D HIS DREAMS %%'S 
 
 jpled at the thought, exactly at the same ppint in the tale as 
 before, he awoke. Gazing hurriedly around he was quite 
 sure that the pale glow of a sulphurous light, though faint and 
 fast fading, still clung to the room ; and that he caught a dim 
 and imperfect glimpse of the shade, as it disappeared in the 
 extreme corner of his tent. 
 
 But all this was matter of small consolation. The main 
 point remained as obscure as ever ; and if he cursed himself 
 on the previous night, he now felt more than half disposed to 
 make a warning and example of himself, by the execution on 
 his own person of a summary vengeance. He made no fur- 
 ther effort for sleep ; indeed, the attempt were vain, and if 
 not vain, useless ; for what ghost, especially of a monarch, 
 could be expected to wait on his nod and beck, to come and 
 go at his bidding ? He was the most unfortunate man alive, 
 and perchance would have gone distracted before morning had 
 it not luckily occurred to him that the supernatural calendar 
 is arranged by threes, and that the morrow night, being the 
 third of the series, would without doubt conclude the affair, 
 and lead to the full fruition of his wishes. 
 
 Comforted and at length cheered by this happy thought, his 
 confidence returned, and he relaxed nothing on the following 
 day of his suddenly-assumed importance. Reflection, indeed, 
 did but establish his mind ; he now considered it certain that 
 he was a made man; and accordingly cast about him for a 
 confidant to whom he might reveal, and with whom he might 
 enjoy anew, the story of his prospective riches and honors. 
 On balancing the subject maturely in his mind, he pitched or 
 Ambrose, the personal attendant or valet of Don Ferdinand 
 and who by reason of position, added to natural shrewdness, 
 was a character of much importance in the camp, to subserve 
 the purpose of a friend on the occasion. To him, with a pro- 
 found solemnity, such as the subject demanded, and with many 
 hems and haws, Joachim Blazo made a clean breast of his 
 
284 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEK 
 
 visions of the night, and of the visions of greatness which 
 oppressed him. 
 
 Ambrose listened w^ith a mixture of incredulity and wondei 
 At first he was only prevented from stretching his mouth, as 
 near as possible, from one auditory orifice to the other, by the 
 fear of giving offense ; but soon his superstition and avarice 
 both became enlisted, and he smoothed his face into an atti- 
 tude of meek and respectful attention. The expert Joachim 
 secured his conversion by assuming the entire responsibility 
 of the affair, and staking his veracity on the issue, assuring 
 him, independent of evidence, that it was all gospel truth ; 
 and taking into the account the reputation of old Blazo for anom- 
 alous wisdom, and the traditions of the mine, Ambrose very 
 frankly acknowledged that the revelations of the Indian King 
 might very well turn out to be true. He furthermore cautioned 
 .the dreamer to keep the affair a profound secret from every 
 body besides ; and advised him, by all means, to bring matters 
 to a speedy crisis with the ghost. 
 
 Pleased with this counsel, and greatly elated at the idea of 
 so respectable a follower as Ambrose, Joachim Blazo only 
 awaited the going down of the sun to retire to his couch. 
 
^ttx f feuta-s^b^n* 
 
 JOACHIM, IN DESPAIR, INTRODUCES HIS NECK TO A NOOSE. HIS WISH GRATI- 
 FIED, AND HIS DREAM FINISHED. 
 
 " Here's music 
 Itt this bag shall wake her, though she had drank optuiu, 
 Or eaten mandrakes," 
 
 JOACHIM BLAZO slipped on his night-cap, and hastily 
 doffing his small-clothes and hopping into bed, composed 
 his limbs in decent order, and determinately closed his eyes. 
 He was never more resolute with his pickaxe in a ditch than 
 he was now to go to sleep ; and after a half hour or so had 
 elapsed, he was naturally surprised at his poor success. He 
 turned over on his bed and examined himself critically to as- 
 certain if he could detect any evidences of drowsiness. He 
 yawned, and felt encouraged. He yawned again and again, and 
 finally discovered that he was holding his jaws gaping to their 
 utmost extension, for the purpose of deceiving himself as to the 
 exact condition of his symptoms. Still he said to himself, " I 
 have certainly committed an involuntary yawn, once and again ; 
 and after yawning comes sleep." More at ease in his mind, 
 he fell to contriving what he should do with his riches. 
 
 He mentally transported a ship-load of treasure to Spain, 
 and started on a career of splendor which wou'd have shamed 
 the Ferdinands. He builded him a palace which outvied the 
 Alhambra, allied himself with a young and beautiful princess, 
 and sat himself quietly down beneath his own vine. But a 
 person of his consequence could not be supposed to remain in 
 
286 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEW. 
 
 seclusion. His unambitious privacy was disturbed, his happy 
 domestic life was broken in upon — oh, how much against his 
 wishes ! — and he was dragged forth by his sovereign, pro- 
 claimed the purest and wisest of men, and made prime minis- 
 ter of the realm ; and the simple name of Joachim Blazo, more 
 precious to him than all the high-sounding titles of kings and 
 conquerors, in despite of his humility and blushes, became 
 swallowed up and lost in the magnificent appellation of the 
 ' Marquis of Spangdangleo. 
 
 The call of the sentinels announcing the hour of midnight 
 and the safety of the fortress here startled him, and his fanci- 
 ful castles fell. He was somewhat injured by the shock ; and 
 in the confusion attendant on the catastrophe, the beautiful 
 princess and the Marquis of Spangdangleo ran off together, 
 and left him alone with the ruins. When he had sufficiently 
 collected his scattered senses, he had also the additional mor- 
 tification to perceive that he was not yet asleep. 
 
 He counted a thousand and one ; but in vain. He tried 
 every other recipe of which, in the course of his life, he had 
 heard to induce somnolency ; but worse and worse it was with 
 him. If on the two preceding nights he had been forced to 
 content himself with a single meager nap, and the first chap- 
 ter of the revelations in which his very existence was bound 
 up, it did now seem as though this third prophetic period, this 
 present blessed hemisphere of darkness, was not to vouchsafe 
 him even that. 
 
 ^ But it could not well be possible. Such a gross violation 
 of the rules and precedents of the court of dreams was neither 
 to be expected nor endured. This was the great third night, 
 the time when, according to the common law which had gov- 
 erned the subject from time immemorial, the ghostly visitation 
 and relation should culminate and end ; and he could not be- 
 lieve, and did not believe, but that such would now be the 
 case, until the pale day looked into his tent and stared him 
 
JOACmyPS DttEAM FINISIIEP. 287 
 
 full in the face. Then indeed he dragged himself from his 
 bed, more dead than alive, and in his own opinion a ruined 
 man. Weak, nervous, and haggard, he was truly a pitiable 
 object, and for that time might well have escaped from labor 
 on the plea of sickness. But he waited not to be excused ; 
 he could not endure that any human eye should see him ; and 
 to the inquiries of Ambrose, who was anxiously awaiting his 
 appearance, he returned a wild and maniac laugh, and rushed 
 out of the camp and up the side of the mountain. 
 
 Nearly crazed to a certainty was Joachim Blazo by his 
 disappointments, which were of that peculiar nature against 
 which human sagacity and foresight are unable to provide. 
 He had -sought a dream, and could not find it. He had, as 
 he believed, been fooled, baffled, and betrayed by a ghost. 
 
 Careless of life and limb, he kept on his headlong career, 
 as fast and as headlong as could possibly be expected in an 
 uphill course such as he had chosen. On getting out of sight 
 of the fortress, however, he turned in a horizontal direction, 
 v/here his opportunities were vastly better for leaping preci- 
 pices and plunging down horrible chasms. Having run in this 
 manner for a long distance, and made several wonderful and 
 hairbreadth escapes, he at length sunk down on the ground 
 completely exhausted. The spot was a little mossy hollow 
 among the rocks, surrounded by desolation and gloom, a fit 
 place for the last chapter in the life of a disappointed man. 
 Joachim Blazo acknowledged the omen. The sweat was 
 pouring from him in torrents. He puffed and gasped like a 
 dying porpoise in his involuntary attempts to regain the faculty 
 of respiration ; and as he cast a last sad look toward the blue 
 sky, ere his final night should shut in, he observed a branch 
 of witch-hazel hanging down invitingly above him. Accept- 
 ing the hint, without more ado he made a noose of his hand- 
 kerchief, and slipped it over his neck. It was easy to fasten 
 the other extremity to the tree, but there did not seem to be 
 
288 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 any well -arranged jumping-ofF place at hand ; and singularly- 
 enough, at this stage of the proceeding, it occurred to him that 
 without the very best facilities, the operation he proposed 
 would be unpleasant. So feeling very much disposed for rest 
 of some kind, he stretched himself on the moss, and was soon 
 in a profound sleep. 
 
 There was no danger now that the fertility of his fancy, or 
 any little spiritual punctilio would awake him. He snored 
 like a seahorse ; and thought nothing further of this world or 
 the other, gold, princesses, or ghosts, or even of his own most 
 terrible disappointments, until the middle of the afternoon. 
 By that time his physical man had somewhat renewed its 
 vigor, and his lethargy became less deep. His thoughts be- 
 gan to skip about again, and to run in their accustomed chan- 
 nels : and again he was in the mood for dreams. 
 
 Once more the Indian King stood before him, but the ex- 
 pression of his countenance was this time mild and agree- 
 able ; and Joachim felt no fear. Indeed, the specter conde- 
 scended to assure him that he had chalked no scores against 
 him, and owed him no ill will ; and that now he had come 
 to do him substantial good, and to make an end of his reve- 
 lations. 
 
 He began as on the two former occasions, and related his 
 story, going over the same ground word for word. When 
 this was accomplished, with a dexterity which showed that 
 he understood his business, he coiled a noose in a belt of 
 wampum, and slipping it over Joachim's head, just so fer that 
 it held fast under his nose and ears, he whipped him up into 
 the air, or down into the earth, Joachim could not exactly tell 
 which ; and a moment after both were standing in the mine. 
 The men were there all busy at their work. This Joachim 
 readily saw, but none of them appeared to take the least 
 notice of him. There stood his own barrow and shovel, 
 already rusting for lack of use : and while the Very sight of 
 
JOAGHIWS DREAM FINISHED. 289 
 
 them made him melancholy, he heard that scapegrace of an 
 Ambrose say, that he did not see how such an old fool as 
 Blazo could get lunatic ; for he always supposed it was neces- 
 sary for people to have brains, in order to become demented. 
 
 Justly incensed at this most ungenerous and infamous remark, 
 aimed, too, at an absent man, Joachim felt greatly inclined to 
 resent it on the spot ; but his patron, the ghost of the Indian 
 King, just at that moment beginning to manifest a little impa- 
 tience, he contented himself with inwardly vowing that Am- 
 brose should never finger the first brass farthing of his riches, 
 and gave a respectful attention. 
 
 " Joachim Blazo !" said the shade of the monarch, in a 
 loud, solemn voice, which it was marvelous indeed that the 
 workmen did not hear, " Joachim Blazo, thou just man, give 
 ear ! Dost thou see that little red and blue stone there, about 
 twice as big as thy nose, which is none of the smallest ?" 
 
 To which Joachim with a very reverential bow replied: 
 
 " Most gracious- and benevolent ghost ! If it please your 
 majesty, I do." 
 
 " Well, then," continued the King," the treasure is there — 
 beneath that very stone, I say : do you hear ?" And without 
 more ado, to impress the momentous revelation properly on 
 Joachim's mind, as appeared, he seized his rubicund nose be- 
 tween his thumb and fore-finger, and gave it a substantial tweak. 
 
 "I do ! I do !" roared Joachim in terror ; " if it please 
 your august sovereignty !" 
 
 " H«,ve done with those titular distinctions, Joachim Blazo," 
 said the ghost, sternly. "They are entirely out of place in 
 my present abode. I am no longer a monarch but a subject ; 
 a mere shadow of a man, a wreath of smoke, a puff of air. 
 But now you know the spot, Joachim ! Remember ! Remem- 
 ber ! Blood was shed in the burial of these treasures ; and 
 blood must be shed in exhuming, and bringing them again to 
 upper earth !" 
 
 13 
 
290 6!4JfP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 The ghost then proceeded in a very kind and familiar man 
 ner, having jfinished, as it seemed, the graver and more im- 
 pressive parts of his discourse, and perceiving also that his 
 listener was a little quavering, in consequence of his mention 
 of blood, to impart to Joachim some concise but very neces- 
 sary instructions. He told him that the gold must be reclaimed 
 between the hours of midnight and three o'clock in the morn- 
 ing ; and that the digging and removal must be conducted in 
 profound silence, so far as the human voice was concerned — 
 positively, without a word being spoken. He furthermore 
 instructed him how to describe a magic circle ; a thing he 
 might very properly have omitted, as Joachim already under- 
 stood it quite as well as himself: and imparted to him several 
 cabalistic words, by the utterance of which, at the proper 
 time, and under the prescribed conditions, the proprietorship 
 of the treasure would be transferred from the demons under 
 the earth, and. the demons of the air, and be securely vested 
 in himself. 
 
 ~ Having at last finished his instructions, and urged on his 
 listener a faithful and exact adherence to them, the ghost of 
 the Indian King, with a A^ery complaisant farewell, vanished 
 into thin air: and Joachim awoke. There, just above him, 
 waved the witch-hazel limb, as when he sunk into repose ; and 
 the handkerchief was still around his neck, save that in his 
 battles with the flies, he had somewhat enlarged the noose, 
 and worked a part of it quite up against his nose. Soon he 
 recollected with terror, that not long since he had made de- 
 liberate preparations to hang himself. The necessity for this 
 extreme proceeding being now happily obviated, he wondered 
 at the folly which possessed him. He could not look at the 
 tree without a shudder ; and hastily drew the ominous coil 
 from his neck, in a flurry of apprehension, lest a plot might 
 exist between it and the bush, to finish the operation without 
 consulting him. 
 
JOACHIM'S DREAM FINISHED. •" 291 
 
 But after all, he had barely escaped a more horrible fate as 
 he slept. The flies, indeed, had nearly murdered him. They 
 must have tormented him for sport as well as aliment ; for 
 his nasal organ was covered with blood ; and never of very 
 moderate dimensions, was now swollen to a double size; 
 while eyes and lips and throat and hands bore unmistakable 
 evidences of the heartless and bloody revel in which they 
 had indulged. 
 
 "But the gold! the gold!" said Joachim. "I am the 
 seventh son of a seventh son : and I recollect that my mother 
 said at my birth, that I was born to good luck and a fortune. 
 Hurrah ! for Joachim Blazo !" 
 
 Having thus given vent to his pent-up emotions, with a 
 shout whose echoes reverberated among the rocks far down 
 the mountain, he cut a stick from the witch-hazel tree, both 
 as a memento and a wand of office : and feeling by this time 
 the strong cravings of hunger, carefully commenced a descent 
 of the hill toward the camp. Nevertheless, as he went, 
 though absolutely torn with the pangs of a crying appetite, 
 having now eaten nothing for nearly twenty-four hours, he 
 kept out a cool and calculating eye. He viewed the ship- 
 loads of treasure in the mine as absolutely his. But that 
 immense mountain, whose full size he had never yet been 
 able to compass even with his eyes, must contain oceans of 
 wealth besides. Perhaps Providence, in its inscrutable wis- 
 dom, intended that Joachim Blazo should become the richest 
 man that the world had ever known. He therefore paused 
 from time to time, and dug up handfuls of earth, and exam- 
 ined the crevices in the rocks ; or stopping by some spring 
 or hillock, he held his witch-hazel wand over a particular 
 spot of ground, and carefully noted the indications. Night 
 found him thus employed, and compassionately drove him 
 home, that he might eat. 
 
Clja^tu ®^irta-ug|t* 
 
 MIDNIGHT CONJURATIONS. 
 
 " And now our orgies let's begin.' 
 
 THOUGH particularly nettled at Ambrose, the first thing 
 Joachim Blazo did on his return to the camp, after filling 
 his stomach, was to seek that individual and impart to him his 
 wondrous and joyous success. Between the two, a plan for 
 future operations was very shortly matured. Half a dozen of 
 the boldest and sturdiest rascals in the fortress, selected from 
 among Don Ferdinand's followers, the particular cronies of 
 Ambrose, were partly let into their counsels, and induced to 
 join them. No time was to be lost : they determined to make 
 a beginning of the business that very night. 
 
 But Joachim was now a thorough convert to the theory of 
 threes, and had little faith in success short of the third night ; 
 and could he in4iis wisdom have contrived any way of com- 
 ing at the third period of the series, without the intervention 
 of the first two, it would have greatly delighted him. But 
 after a good deal of perplexity in his own mind, and some ar* 
 gument with Ambrose, as he could not just at the moment see 
 his way clear, he felt bound in candor and fairness to yield 
 the point. 
 
 A little before midnight, according to appointment, Joachim 
 and his worthy associates issued from the camp. Their ar- 
 rangements were now deemed fully matured. Conventional 
 signs had been substituted in the place of words ; and each 
 
MIDNIGHT CONJURATIONS. 293 
 
 one was to take his cue and directions immediately from 
 Blazo, the acknowledged projector and leader of the enter- 
 prise. As they passed along the causeway in the direction 
 of the mine, all were struck with the notion that there was 
 omething peculiar in the night. The moon looked sleepy 
 and colorless, the stars were small and distant ; and as was 
 afterward testified before the court of inquiry, there was noth- 
 ing human either in the atmosphere or earth. The sky .was 
 high and chalky, and the ground was like a drum. A mere 
 footfall seemed to threaten an earthquake, and all nature ap- 
 peared as though it had the palsy. 
 
 Little moved by these ominous signs, the courageous Blazo, 
 bearing the witch-hazel wand before him in his right Jiand, in 
 his left a lantern, entered the cave, and the rest with more or 
 less trepidation followed. The red and blue stone, which was 
 to designate the exact locality of the treasure, was readily 
 discovered ; indeed, it was an old acquaintance of Joachim, 
 he having dug it up a few days before, and, struck with its 
 singular appearance, deposited it for safe keeping in an ob- 
 scure corner of the mine, where it was now found. As it was 
 triumphantly pointed out, all gazed with open eyes, and ex- 
 changed glances of silent wonder with each other. 
 
 Blazo now gave the signal agreed on, and the rest fell back 
 a few paces, leaving him alone with the mysterious stone. 
 It was now that the important part of the business — the cere- 
 monies for the disenchantment of the treasure — was to com- 
 mence. Cool and collected, Joachim turned his lantern to the 
 right, and then to the left. Before taking any decisive step, 
 he determined to have every thing clearly arranged in his own 
 mind ; and all the while he was skillfully laying out the work 
 that was _before him. His companions regarded him with 
 equal awe and admiration. He then deliberately drew a circle 
 round the red and blue stone with his wand, leaving a slight 
 mark. Next he strewed along the line a plentiful supply of 
 
294 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN: 
 
 some fine powder, which with great privacy he had that very 
 evening compounded. To be sure, this last had not been di- 
 rected by the ghost; but then Joachim had a recipe for such 
 a charm, which was good in all sorts of conjurations ; and on 
 ascertaining that he could procure the materials from Doctor 
 Oquetos, with the exception of one article which he decided 
 to be unimportant, to make certainty more sure, he determined 
 to employ it. 
 
 Fastening a lighted match to the end of his wand, Blazo 
 now took his station within the magic ring. He reverently 
 bowed to the east, and then to the west ; to the north,, and 
 again to the south ; and passing his flaming brand seven times 
 around his head in a circle, and at the same time pronouncing 
 the cabalistic sentence, according to instructions, he set fire 
 to the train. The effect was immediate. To be sure, the 
 powder burned slowly, with a faint blue flame and a most in- 
 tolerable stench ; but the potency of the mystical words could 
 not be gainsayed. Eight unimpeachable witnesses subse- 
 quently affirmed, that no sooner were they uttered, than a 
 rumbling noise was heard, the ground shook under their feet, 
 and a black vapor rolled through the cave, among which 
 strange creatures were to be seen flitting about, and sighing 
 and screaming as they went. 
 
 But seven of these veracious witnesses did not long re- 
 main to watch the progress of affairs. In pale affright, with 
 their noses in their hands, they rushed to the mouth of the 
 mine ; wliile Joachim, the hero of the scene, scorning to fly, 
 was left alone to cope with the visible and invisible terrors of 
 the hour. But luckily he knew it not. The clouds with 
 which he had surrounded himself, eflfectually concealed from 
 him the flight of his companions. He supposed their eyes 
 were on him ; and though at this period it is quite possible 
 that he might have acknowledged a slight degree of nervous- 
 ness, in spite of the fumes which nearly smothered him, and 
 
MIDNIORT CONJURATIONS. 295 
 
 the mysterious noises which filled the air, and the alarming 
 sounds of the retreating footsteps, he resolutely stood his 
 ground. 
 
 But there is a point beyond which mortal firmness and 
 courage may not endure ; and at length it so fell out that a 
 terrific hoot was uttered close by his ear ; and immediately 
 thereafter an unknown thing — beast, bird, ghost, or devil, he 
 knew not what — came full butt into his face. Joachim sent 
 forth one loud, long, agonizing groan, which seemed to come 
 up from the very foundations of his chest, and sunk on the 
 ground in a swoon. 
 
 His brave companions, at that trying crisis, had just gained 
 the open air ; yet they were not so far away but that they 
 distinctly heard the solemn sound which he emitted ; where- 
 upon they came to the sage conclusion that he had been 
 worsted by the demons he had raised, and very likely had 
 been carried bodily away. They made slight pause, how- 
 ever, in their flight, until they had gained a secure distance 
 from the theater of danger, when they came to a halt ; and 
 with pale faces and trembling tongues exchanged congratula- 
 tions with each other over their marvelous escape. They 
 puffed, and Mowed, and cleared their lungs of the smoke, and 
 looked wistfully and fearfully back at the mine. All there 
 appeared quiet and natural enough, save that a slight mist was 
 playing around the terrible mouth. 
 
 " Poor Joachim !" said one. 
 
 " He has gone to hisi final account," said another. 
 
 " He has failed in his silly undertaking," said a third. 
 
 " He has died as the fool dieth," said a fourth. 
 
 *' He has met with his just deserts, for daring to disturb the 
 spirits of the dead," said a fifth, reverentially crossing himself. 
 
 " Saint Pacomo !" exclaimed a sixth. " But my heart mis- 
 gave me from the first. I wanted nothing to do with this 
 presumptuous, wicked business." 
 
296 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEK 
 
 " Fools ! cowards !" exclaimed Ambrose, who was a cool 
 knave, and already began to suspect that they were all more 
 scared than hurt. " I wonder what you are prating about ! 
 If the mine be full of infernal imps from the pit, I for one am 
 going back to see what has become of Blazo. If the rest of 
 you are afraid, stay where you are, or sneak off into your beds." 
 
 " Afraid !" echoed six voices at once. " That is a pretty 
 story, Ambrose. The stench of Joachim's villainous powder 
 drove us all out for breath, and you among the rest ; but who 
 talks of being afraid ?" 
 
 " Come with me,, then, my lads," said Ambrose. " It shall 
 never be said that I deserted a comrade in the hour of need." 
 
 Thus saying, the valiant Ambrose led the way again to the 
 mine. First reconnoitering, they then cautiously entered, and 
 slowly approached the scene of the late incantations. The 
 witch-powder had ceased to burn, and the fumes and the smoke 
 were by this time in a good degree dissipated. Joachim's 
 lantern still maintained its perpendicular, emitting a faint and 
 flickering light ; and by its side, flat on his back, lay the im- 
 mortal Blazo, to all appearance dead ; while an expression 
 of awful horror sat on his face, sufficient to quail the stoutest 
 heart, even of those bold men who had dared to return to the 
 rescue. Seizing him by the legs and arms, however, they 
 speedily dragged him to the open air; where, as the inspiring 
 breath of heaven struck him, with another harrowing groan, he 
 came to himself. 
 
 " Good Joachim !" said his companions, kindly : " you are 
 safe. Joachim! Joachim! do you hear? you are safe. We 
 have rescued you, at terrible odds, to be sure ; but you are 
 now, thanks to the saints, safe and sound, we hope." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! oh !" bellowed Joachim, as he struggled lustily 
 for his wind, " my insides are all burned up, and my outsides 
 mauled to a jelly. 1 never shall breathe a live breath again as 
 long as I live." 
 
MIDNIGHT CONJUBA'^IOirS. 297 
 
 It was evident that nothing further could be accomplished: 
 that night : indeed, the idea of again venturing into the mine 
 was not mooted. Supporting old Blazo between them, the 
 gold-seekers silently and disconsolately re-entered the camp, 
 and sneaked away to their several quarters. 
 
 The next day they presented a woe-begone appearance. 
 . With the exception of Ambrose, all looked troubled and care- 
 worn, and hung their heads as though they had been stealing 
 sheep, and expected to be detected. He was composed of 
 too brazen materials, and was too well schooled in deception, 
 to suffer his apprehensions to come upon the surface and be 
 seen ; and so only appeared as though he had spent a night in 
 debauch, as was frequently his wont. The rest bore the gibes 
 of their companions at their altered demeanor as best they 
 might, and repented them that they had had any thing to do 
 with an undertaking so frightful. As night approached, how- 
 ever, they came together as though by accident, to talk of the 
 past and counsel for the future. 
 
 " I did not expect success, and do not now, short of the 
 third night," said Joachim Blazo ; whose great soul indulged 
 no thought of retreat; and who had ruminated and sweat and 
 suffered so much, that he now held his very existence, and all 
 beyond in which he was interested, staked on the momentous 
 hazard. " But we have gained the right of possession : and 
 our victory of last night, I am thinking, will make all the rest 
 quite easy." 
 
 " Think you so ?" said Ambrose, his (J^uble-meaning eye 
 brightening. 
 
 " Verily I do," returned Blazo. " We stood our ground 
 manfully." 
 
 " Ah, yes," said the othef-s, " we stood our ground." 
 
 " And the demons retreated," continued Joachim. " That 
 was evident enough from the noise." 
 
 " What noise ?" asked a green one. 
 1.3* 
 
298 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 " Why, the noise they made in running away. The patter- 
 ing of their feet, down in the ground, sounded as though there 
 had been a whole troop. Did you not hear it ?" 
 
 " Aye, aye, to be sure. We heard it," replied they all. 
 
 " Well," added Blazo, " devils, when fairly ousted, scarcely 
 ever return to the fight again. My grandmother often said, 
 that once soundly flogged, they were your slaves forever." 
 
 " But we did have a terrible time of it last night, did we 
 not, Joachim ?" said Ambrose. " Nothing but your presence 
 of mind, and my bravery, seconded by the others, saved our 
 lives, surrounded as we were by dangers great and small. 
 You were a gone sucker, Blazo, had I not broke through and 
 rescued you, at the risk of my heart's blood." 
 
 " Did you see those bats flying around in the smoke ?" said 
 the green one. 
 
 " Bats ?" echoed another. " Why, man, they were twice as 
 big." 
 
 " Three times, at least," said still another : " and the mine 
 was full of them." 
 
 " The demon that battered my face," said Joachim, " was 
 of the size of a goose, and shaped like an owl. He had claws 
 like an eagle and fists like a man." 
 
 " The size of a goose !" said Ambrose. " It was all of that, 
 Blazo. I saw it very distinctly. There were several of them, 
 and they screamed louder than so many panthers. It is enough 
 to make one's blood curdle to think of it." 
 
 " But the treasure will repay us," said Joachim. " You shall 
 all be made rich out of that, richer than kings or even priests." 
 
 " You saw the heap in your vision, Joachim ?" said one. 
 
 " Why, yes," returned Blazo. " To be sure I did." 
 
 " Well, how large might it be ?" 
 
 " It was so mixed up with the bones," replied Joachim, 
 "that I could not exactly tell. It was a big pile, however; 
 as big, I ghould think, as a considerable sized hill." 
 
MIDNIGHT CONJURATIONS. 299 
 
 *' All in bars of gold ?" 
 
 « Mainly." 
 
 " And how large might the barsl^e ?" 
 
 " Why, man," said the perplexed Joachim, " the gold, you 
 see, was like bars of iron. It shone like the sun : it flashed 
 like millions of diamonds, until my eyes were dazzled, and all 
 my senses overwhelmed." 
 
 These replies were deemed satisfactory and conclusive : 
 and without expressing any of that reluctance to proceed, 
 which each had felt so strongly through the day, they set 
 themselves seriously to digesting their scheme of operations 
 for the coming hour of twelve. 
 
i^^ttx il]irtB-ninK 
 
 A GRAND CATASTROPHE. 
 
 " But when this unexpected foe 
 Seemed starting from the gulf bclow- 
 I care not though the truth I show — 
 I trembled with afTdght." 
 
 PRECISELY as the noon of night wheeled up U the zenith, 
 the gallant gold-diggers were on the ground. But it is 
 needless to detail at length each particular occurrence of the 
 night, inasmuch as it did not prove to be the final period ; and 
 was characterized by few of the horrors of the first. SuflJice 
 it that they began to dig within the charmed borders of the 
 mystic ring ; and for three mortal hours, with patient sweat 
 and toil, and pick and bar and shovel, continued to enlarge 
 their excavation. The supernatural guard over the treasure, 
 which had given them so much trouble the night before, did 
 not see fit to molest them. To be sure, one of the numbei 
 afterward deposed, that, having left his work for a brief mo- 
 ment, and gone out to the mouth of the mine, a thing which he 
 denominated a laughing devil sat upon a tree nigh by, and 
 with the most extraordinary sounds and grimaces mocked and 
 derided him. But this item, we feel bound to say, should be 
 taken with some grains of allowance, for the several reasons : 
 that it was testified to but by one witness ; that whatever he 
 saw must have been seen by a very faint moonlight, and quite 
 likely while in a state of considerable excitement ; and lastly, 
 that the existence at all of such a creature as a laughing devil 
 
A GRAND CATASTROPHK 301 
 
 is extremely apocryphal, as it is not described in any of our 
 natural histories whatever. 
 
 At the hour of three, the party, thoroughly tired out, but 
 well satisfied with the omens and the progress they had 
 made, after carefully concealing the pit they had digged with 
 a covering of timbers and earth, adjourned over to the follow- 
 ing night. 
 
 On the next day they felt quite at liberty to indulge in a 
 certain gayety of mood, and to solace the checkered past, its 
 wants and cares and sorrows, with anticipations of a brilliant 
 future : and this happy frame of mind could hardly fail to 
 manifest itself in their deportment. Accordingly they took 
 airs upon themselves and quite overtopped their fellows. 
 They threw out obscure hints of important changes likely to 
 occur ; and expressed themselves with a freedom, while 
 speaking of their superiors, which created surprise, and was 
 deemed to border on open insubordination. They frequently 
 run together in a knot ; and the men seeing others in such 
 close brotherhood with Blazo, made up their minds that his 
 madness was infectious: and piously crossing themselves, 
 invoked all the saints in the calendar to shield them from its 
 influence. 
 
 Indeed, to Joachim and his co-workers, all ahead looked 
 smiling enough. Fortune was evidently on their side : the 
 legions of the pit had been vanquished on a fair Jield: the 
 third night, the mystic period of the cycle, big with the award 
 of fate, was at hand : and around the result, uncertainties 
 were no longer suffered to linger. 
 
 It came; and from the going down of the sun; from the 
 moment that the breath of the dusky horses of darkness, 
 usually called twilight, was discoverable upon the mountain, 
 it was plain that it was to be a proper night for a crisis — a 
 victory or a catastrophe. As they passed out of the camp 
 and took their way toward the mine, they felt that they wer« 
 
302 CAMP FIRES OF TUE RED MEN. 
 
 no longer sustained by that perfect satisfying confidence of 
 success which had buoyed them up through the day. They 
 knew of no solid reasons to engender doubts ; but then tjie 
 clouds were hurrying in black masses through the sky, smoth- 
 ering the moon and stars : the winds howled dismally around 
 the hill, among the rocks, and through the shrieking trees : 
 and every breath and twig and spire of mountain grass seemed 
 laden with a voice. The spirits, it was^evident, were all 
 abroad for work. 
 
 " We shall have a time of it to-night, I am thinking," ob- 
 served Ambrose. 
 
 *' Blood must be shed !" muttered Joachim between his 
 teeth, with a start ; that part of the revelations of the ghost, 
 now for the first time striking him with its full force. " It 
 may be Ambrose, or Pedro, or Gonzalez, or myself — who 
 knows?" 
 
 But he was careful that these half-spoken harrowing thoughts 
 should not reach the ears of his companions. In all the 
 relations he had given of his interviews with the Indian 
 King, somehow or other this important item had been for- 
 gotten : and he could not find it in his heart to add to the 
 present terror and dismay of his followers by mentioning it 
 now. Indeed, the fulfillment of the asseveration did not of 
 necessity involve the loss of life : and if it did, it seemed 
 quite improbable that the victim should be one of his own 
 victorious corps, who for two nights had maintained their 
 ground against the combined forces of the whole infernal 
 world. 
 
 But on this night, with pity be it spoken, these same brave 
 men entered the mine, the scene of their former exploits, 
 with every mark of abject fear written on their faces. Their 
 rebellious hearts thumped lustily against their ribs ; the fac- 
 ulty of respiration was obstructed, so that they breathed 
 with a hollow sound ; and their knees smote each other as 
 
A GBAKD CATASTROPHE. 303 
 
 they walked. Being dim of sight withal, it is hardly prob- 
 able that they were fully conscious of the cowardly demon- 
 stration they were making ; or if they were, they prudently 
 garnered the knowledge for the inner man, and carefully 
 preserved that solemn silence to which they were forewarned 
 by the ghost. 
 
 Arrived at the spot, they set down their lights, and paused 
 a moment to take breath. Ambrose was pale and haggard 
 enough ; while Joachim Blazo, who felt that on his shoul- 
 ders rested worlds of responsibility, and that to him did the 
 others look as a sort of a guide-board for the direction of 
 their own demeanor, assumed to feel very much composed 
 and at his ease. With a great show of deliberation he 
 lighted a torch, which really threw its glare on a very un- 
 earthly scene. 
 
 The so-called mine was in effect a dreary cavern, extend- 
 ing for several rods, on a descending plane, into the body of 
 the mountain. One of its sides was near at hand: the 
 others were lost In a deep obscurity, a darkness visible, which 
 the lanterns and the torch could not penetrate, save at one 
 point, where a spot like a faint, ragged moon marked the 
 place of entrance. Overhead was an uneven roof of loose 
 slate rock, which, as it crumbled badly on being exposed to 
 the air, it had* been found necessary to support : and scat- 
 tered here and there without order, were the rough trunks of 
 forest trees doing the office of pillars. The gold-seekers 
 gazed fearfully around. Never had the place looked so 
 gloomy, so desolate, so sepulchral. 
 
 Joachim was the first to turn to work. In a sort of des- 
 peration he seized a shovel, and the others followed his ex- 
 ample. The pit was very shortly uncovered, and the dig- 
 ging commenced. For near two hours did they toil, silently, 
 incessantly, and without untoward accident or malicious in- 
 terruption. As the excavation was somewhat cramped in its 
 
304 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEK 
 
 dimensions, they spelled each other, part holding the lights 
 above, while others delved below. 
 
 At this time, Ambrose and Joachim being both in the pit, a 
 low, rumbling sound was heard. They stopped and listened. 
 It continued ; and was plainly just beneath their feet. With 
 a most remarkable prescience, the great Blazo at once per- 
 ceived, or thought he perceived, that their invisible enemy 
 was attempting to steal the march on them, and remove the 
 treasure. Full of this idea, in tremulous alarm, he asked, by 
 signs, for a crowbar, which was quickly placed in his hands. 
 Once in his grasp, he elevated it aS though it had been a toy| A 
 and with vigorous and oft-repeated strokes applied its nether ' 
 point to the lowest depression of the pit. The instrument 
 came in contact with, and struck, a solid and resounding 
 something. Without doubt it was a wedge, a beam, a molten 
 mass of gold : and thereupon the joy of the old man inconti- 1 
 nently exploded, like a discharge of beer. 
 
 " Bravo ! I have it, boys !" he shouted : and the substance 
 against which the iron rested, as all unitedly averred, slid 
 away with a grating noise, and was no longer there. The 
 spell was broken. The sound of a human voice had dissolved 
 the potent charm ; and the demons resumed their sWay. 
 
 " Fool ! fool !" said Ambrose, " you have ruined all." 
 
 " Fool ! fool !" echoed the rest : and the eyes of all glared 
 furiously on Blazo, their wise and veteran chief, as though 
 they thirsted for his blood. He meanwhile remained more 
 calm than could have been expected. Determined forthwith 
 to satisfy his doubts, and to remove or confirm the apprehen- \ 
 sions of his followers, again he reared aloft the massive iron; 
 and concentrating his Herculean strength in one good blow, 
 he struck. The result, no language can depict. Like a 
 blackened ray of light, like a harpoon when projected at a 
 whale, like a something that was and is not, the crowbar,, 
 without a sound to mark its flight, shot, or was wrenched as 
 
A GRAND CATASTROPHE. • 305 
 
 he declared, out of his hands, and disappeared in the direc- 
 tion of the celestial empire of China. Immediately a noise 
 was heard, whiz! whiz ! whiz ! and a jet of water, as though 
 propelled from the hose of a monster fire-engine, struck the 
 astonished veteran in the face, and subdivided a thousand 
 different ways, in flashing streams, in diamond drops, in sil- 
 very spray, immersing all in a cool and invigorating bath. 
 The lights were extinguished : and an exulting laugh, as was 
 deposed, from a hundred unseen throats, rung through the 
 cavern, followed by a tremendous concussion, like the report 
 of a piece of ordnance, which shook the mountain 'to its 
 center. 
 
 This was too much. Terrified to madness, with cries for 
 mercy which they did not expect 4o find, the gold-diggers 
 made an effort to escape. But each one, as he turned, found 
 himself grappled by a foe. Ah, then indeed commenced the 
 tug of war! The first night's horrors, the dread witch-pow- 
 ders and the choking smoke, the screams of demons and the 
 hoot of owls, the laughing devils and the flying bats, were 
 naught compared to this- were child's play to the battle that 
 now raged ! 
 
 The good Joachim, as he clambered up from the pit, f^jund 
 himself in the grasp of a monster, whose eyes, so he averred, 
 were live coals, whose breath was a burning issue of sulphur. 
 The creature seized him by the throat, and the breathless 
 hero, as a last chance, gasping forth, " Blood must be^shed," 
 whipped out his knife, and lunged full at the vitals of his 
 adversary : whereupon he was let loose. 
 
 Ambrose did not escape so well. On the rim of the pit, 
 a shaggy being, which he described as an anomalous compound 
 of demon and brute, clinched him in his arms. After a short 
 but desperate struggle, in which he performed prodigies of 
 valor, he succeeded in getting his adversary by the throat 
 At this point, an unseen blow, he was inclined to think from 
 
306 ■ CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 a supernal pistol, as he saw a flash, struck him in the abdo- 
 men, inflicting a severe wound, much like the cut of a knife. 
 He fell : and the demon, no doubt supposing him to be dead, 
 left him. . 
 
 Pedro, at the culmination of the catastrophe, sprung toward 
 the mouth -of the mine. He was headed in the darkness, 
 however, by an immense creature whom it was impossible for 
 him to describe. Still, having his pickaxe in his hand, he 
 aimed a random blow, and had the good fortune to strike him j 
 down. But at the same instant another seized him by the i 
 hair of his head, and whisked him around the cave as though 
 he had been a mere dry leaf whirled by a gust of autumn ; 
 until the lock giving way, he escaped with a flayed poll, and 
 the loss of a portion of his queue. 
 
 Gonzalez, after a short engagement with some nondescript 
 being, no doubt similar in most respects to those we have 
 attempted to describe, was prostrated by a blow which frac- 
 tured his leg. Bar Jose, another of the party, and the only 
 one whom fortune so far favored, was entirely victorious. 
 Following the example of a celebrated hero at the siege of 
 Troy, after vanquishing his enemy, he seized him by the hair, J 
 and. dragged him through the mine. ^ 
 
 The rest of the party got ofi* with only slight injuries : and 
 ere long, but in separate parcels, each found his way back to 
 the camp. But truly they were in a shocking plight. Their 
 tattered garments, their disfigured faces, their blood and 
 wounds, were not the worst of it. They were frenzied with 
 terror — for the time, they were madmen : and though their 
 bodies might be healed, ten to one the hurts to the invisible 
 dweller within might not so readily recover. 
 
^ux ioxtu* 
 
 THE COUBT OF INQUIRY. LAST HOURS AND CONFESSION OF A VILLAIN. TO 
 
 ARMS ! 
 
 i 
 
 " Traitor, thou liest !» 
 
 THE groans and lamentations of the gold-seekers, as they 
 regained the camp, produced the uproar before mentioned, 
 which aroused the Spanish leaders from their beds. At the 
 investigation which succeeded, most of the preceding facts 
 and incidents were brought to light, clothed in an abundance 
 of superstitious and fanciful drapery, which imparted to it 
 much of the air and interest of a romance. 
 
 Accompanied by Don Ferdinand de Cassino, his reverence 
 Signor Antonio, and Doctor Oquetos, as members of the board 
 of inquiry, Don Manuel proceeded to the mine. They found 
 the pit of the treasure-seekers full of water, and perceived 
 that a spring had been let in upon the works, which might 
 give them some trouble. The reported concussion was read- 
 ily accounted for. A large mass of rock had fallen from the 
 roof of the mine, sufficient, had it come on Joachim and his 
 followers, to quiet them forever. Bar Jose was set to look 
 for the tuft of hair, which, it was premised, might remain 
 near the scene of his exploit. It was recovered : and on 
 comparison, was found to correspond, marvelously well, with 
 the black locks of Pedro. 
 
 After a patient and most laborious session, and a critical 
 examination of the wounded, on the part of Dr Oquetos, the 
 opinion of the court was rendered. The ^earned doctor him- 
 
308 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 self, as -the one best qualified to deal with such a subject, offi- 
 ciated as spokesman ; and proceeded to declare : first, that the 
 limb of Gonzalez had received a compound fracture, which, 
 according to the best lights of science, might easily have been 
 inflicted by a certain instrument, vulgarly called a pickaxe. 
 Secondly, that the wound of Ambrose was a smooth cut, 
 which might very well have been produced by a pointed blade, 
 like that of Joachim Blazo's knife ; but he was careful to add, 
 that that powerful and mysterious fluid, known as electricity, 
 occasionally performs surprising antics ; and that it is a chem- 
 ical agent, on the action of which the most profound acquaint- 
 ance with science will not enable one to calculate with pre^ 
 cision. " Thirdly, that Blazo's iron bar, might, by possibility, 
 have left his hands from the force of its own gravity, super- 
 added to the momentum of his stroke ; instead of having been 
 wrested from him by the indignant inhabitants of the other 
 world ; always presupposing the existence of a cavity beneath, 
 or at least an absence of solid earth ; which in the present 
 case, should his supposition, which he acknowledged to be 
 novel, prove correct, would probably be found to be a subter- 
 ranean fount. This theory, he was of the opinion, would also 
 account for the presence of water in the pit ; and to render it 
 more clear, he branched off in a long and learned dissertation 
 on gravitation, compressibility, and resistance, which we need 
 not follow. Fourthly, that it was certainly possible that Bar 
 Jose, by some unaccountable error, in the confusion af the 
 melee, might have pulled Pedro's hair. On this point, he was 
 sorry to say, an honest difference of opinion existed among 
 the members of the bench. While some of them were dis- 
 posed to view the whole affair as an unfortunate scuffle 
 among eight individuals, who had gradually wroight them- 
 selves up to the verge of idiocy or madness, he had been com- 
 pelled to arrive at a different conclusion. 
 
 What that precise conclusion was, can only be surmised 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A VILLAIN—TO ARMS. 309 
 
 from what has gone before : for at this point, Don Manuel, 
 as the presiding officer of the board, closed the proceedings. 
 
 It was found necessary to cut a drain from the spring, of 
 which the renowned Blazo was the discoverer : and as he, 
 together with such of his late associates as were not disabled, 
 was put into the trench, they had abundant opportunity to 
 explore the locality about which their day-dreams still lingered. 
 The crowbar was recovered : but the unfortunate words 
 spoken by Joachim, so they still believed, had effectually dis- 
 sipated the treasure. Not even a bone was discovered, in 
 fulfillment of what they considered one of the most extra- 
 ordinary revelations ever vouchsafed to man. Most of them, 
 however, gradually forgot their glowing expectations, and to 
 appearance sunk back into their former moods. But on 
 Joachim Blazo disappointment wrought its fill. He never 
 held his head up again. Gloomy and dispirited, he became 
 the butt of many a jest which he could poorly bear, and died a 
 broken-hearted man. 
 
 Insignificant as was this whole matter, on it was fated to 
 hinge that crisis in the affairs of the Spaniards which the 
 acute reader must long since have foreseen. Don Ferdmand 
 had now completely recovered. The confidence with which 
 their mining operations had been commenced, for some time 
 had been dwindling away. In truth, the prosecution of the 
 work, though still ostensibly continued, was even now a mat- 
 ter of secondary importance, and was fast becoming a mere 
 by-play, to cover other and more engrossing purposes. The 
 two leaders were eyeing each other like hostile generals, 
 neither of whom is exactly prepared for the struggle he sees 
 approaching ; and -the mining went on, and the customary 
 routine of each day was preserved, lest any change should pre- 
 cipitate the denouement before its time. Don Ferdinand, to 
 be sure, often stormed and sometimes threatened, but still 
 hesitated: while Don Manuel, surrounded by difficulties which 
 
310 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 he could perceive no way to surmount, courted delay, and 
 soothed and braved by turns, hoping a salvation for "his 
 daughter and himself, of which he could see no promise in 
 their sky. 
 
 While things were in this posture, he was one day informed 
 by Signer Antonio that Don Ferdinand's servant, Ambrose, 
 was almost at the last gasp, and very urgent to see him. He 
 was surprised at this, as the chevalier had assured him from 
 time to time that his valet's wounds were not dangerous, and 
 that he was rapidly recovering. He at once accompanied the 
 priest to the quarters of the domestic ; and perceived at a 
 glance that the prognostic of the good father was likely to 
 prove too true. Death, it was evident, had arrived in the 
 tent before him, and was already engaged in the execution of 
 his work. To support him, in this trying hour, the wretched 
 man could find no aids within. No God, no Christ, no ap- 
 proving conscience, had been there for years ; and he could 
 only look with agony and terror to his priest ; while on his 
 face, as legibly as though written with a point of steel, were 
 shadowed forth the horrors of an ill-spent life. 
 
 Don Ferdinand and Doctor Oquetos were both present. 
 The chevalier started and turned pale as Don Manuel entered. 
 
 " Ambrose is not so bad as they pretend,'' said he. " All 
 he needs is a little quiet. Let us leave him that he may sleep. 
 Father Antonio will sit by him." 
 
 Doctor Oquetos here commenced to give a scientific 
 opinion of the case, which was interrupted by the dying man. 
 
 " Leave me," he said, faintly, " all but his excellenza, Don 
 Manuel Torrillo." 
 
 The doctor and the priest withdrew. Don Ferdinand, with 
 an obviously increasing restlessness, remained. 
 
 " Leave me !" said Ambrose, iimpatiently. 
 
 " I can not at such a moment as this," gasped the chevalier. 
 
 " Base tempter !" said Ambrose : " your gold at last has lost 
 
CONFESSIONS }F A VILLAIN— TO ARMS. 311 
 
 its power over me. I am no longer your slave. I am now, 
 fof the brief space that may remain to me, free." 
 
 ♦' Villain !" exclaimed Don Ferdinand, in a voice which 
 seemed to issue from his chest, independent of the vocal 
 organs, so deep and husky was it, " where are your oaths ?" 
 
 Thus saying, he sprung like an enraged beast, and seized 
 the expiring wretch by the throat. The act took Don Manuel 
 entirely by surprise. Unexpectedly called to the chamber of 
 death, he had regarded the extraordinary scene which there 
 presented itself, with dismay. Now* however, arousing his 
 stupefied faculties, he stepped in to the rescue. Seizing the 
 infuriated chevalier, he unclasped his hands from his victim, 
 and shouted for aid. The doctor and the priest who were in 
 waiting without, immediately entered : and Don Ferdinand, 
 casting about him a mingled look of fury and defiance, rushed 
 from the tent. 
 
 It was some time before poor Ambrose was sufficiently 
 recovered to speak ; and meanwhile, Don Manuel, shocked 
 beyond measure at what had occurred, proposed to retire ; 
 when an impatient gesture from the dying man detained him. 
 
 " You must hear me now, my lord, or never," said he, with 
 difficulty. " I would do one act of justice before I die. O 
 for strength ! for a voice once m©re ! I have made my 
 confession. Father Antonio has it. Let him read, and I will 
 confirm its truth." 
 
 The reverend father produced the paper in question, and 
 read it to his astonished auditors, the truth of each period 
 being solemnly affirmed by Ambrose as. he proceeded. The 
 important points, stripped of a mass of useless words which 
 only served to becloud them, were : 
 
 That Don Ferdinand de Cassino already had one wife living 
 in Spain, the sister of the confessor, whom he had found it 
 impossible to seduce to his purposes, and so had secretly but 
 lawfully married. ' 
 
312 OAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 That Don Ferdinand de Cassino was directly the accuser 
 of Don Manuel Torrillo at the court of his sovereign, with the 
 purpose of humbling the pride of the Lady Viola, and reducing 
 both father and daughter to his power : which had resulted 
 in the confiscation of the estates, and the exile of Don 
 Manuel. 
 
 That Don Ferdinand de Cassino had twice attempted the 
 assassination of Captain Charles Warwick, once in New York, 
 when Ambrose himself was the instrument, and again at their 
 late meeting by the river. 
 
 That Don Ferdinand de Cassino had boasted to the con- 
 fessor, that he slew the Indian guide who conducted him 
 back to camp on the occasion of his brief captivity with the 
 natives. 
 
 And furthermore, that Don Ferdinand was now tampering 
 with the men, those immediately attached to Don Manuel, 
 with the view to a mutiny or outbreak, which should place all, 
 particularly the Lady Viola, at his disposal : and that if her 
 father expected to save her or himself, he had not a moment 
 to lose. 
 
 Don Manuel was confounded. Some of these charges he 
 already had good reason to believe correct, and the rest might 
 well be. Unfortunately there was nothing in the character of 
 the man, as he now regarded it, calculated to throw doubt on 
 the solemn dying declarations of his domestic, and his own 
 heart told him they were true. He therefore thanked the 
 miserable wretch, and, at his request, kindly forgave him, so 
 far as his agency in the machinations of his master had been 
 directed against him or his. Recommending him to look up 
 to God as his only refuge and hope, and committing him for 
 the brief period of life that might still remain, to the care and 
 consolation of the doctor and the priest, he then bade him 
 farewell. 
 
 As he passed to his own quarters, Don Manuel did not 
 
CONFESSIONS OF A VILLAIN— TO ARMS. 313 
 
 observe anything to excite alarm. AH appeared as usual, 
 except that scarcely any one was to be seen, and the whole 
 fortress wa^ as still and breathless as the sick chamber he 
 had just left. Ascertaining that his daughter was safe, be at 
 once ordered the drums to beat to arms. The call was 
 sounded ; that call, in obedience to which the united Spanish 
 forces had never failed to gather around him and acknowledge 
 him as their senior chief. Now, Hugh O'Brady, Solyman, 
 and a few veterans, who had long been in his service and 
 were attached to his person, alone obeyed the summons. He 
 cast his eyes over them, and though he compelled his features 
 to remain unmoved, at his heart he was in terror. But better 
 one true sword than many traitors. This handful could be 
 trusted. There was no doubt on their faces. They came 
 together with alacrity, and ranged themselves by his side with 
 that resolute bearing, the compressed mouth, and open, steady 
 eye, which showed that they had deliberately chosen their 
 part, and intended to abide it. He looked around for John- 
 son, but the veteran, a host in himself, was nowhere to be 
 seen. 
 
 But a few moments elapsed' before Don Ferdinand, at the 
 head of the great body of the men, wheeled into view from 
 the rear of his own quarters and confronted him. Don Man- 
 uel's countenance glowed with indignation. Smothering his 
 feelings, however, he returned his half-drawn sword to its 
 scabbard ; and advancing a few paces alone, said : 
 
 " Don Ferdinand de Cassino, and all ye, good and true 
 men, answer me, I pray you ! Why stand ye here in arms 
 against your chief ? Your wrongs I have never refused to 
 right. I have been true to you — why are you not true to me ?" 
 
 " Most gracious sire,'* returned Don Ferdmand, in a pre- 
 tended meek and mock heroic tone, ".we humbly ask justice 
 for your faithful liege, Ferdinand of Cassino. Nay," continued 
 he, throwing off the mask of the suppliant, and assuming that 
 
 14 
 
314 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN". 
 
 pompous, defiant manner which was more natural to him, " we 
 not only ask, we demand it." 
 
 " Of what injustice, pray, can Ferdinand of Cassino, the 
 faithful, complain ?" said Don Manuel, in a tone of bitter 
 irony which he could not well repress. 
 
 " He complains," replied Don Ferdinand, " that the most 
 solemn engagements on the part of Don Manuel Torrillo and 
 his daughter are not fulfilled ; that contracts the most sacred, 
 made in the presence of high heaven and our holy church, are 
 by them disregarded and cast aside as things of no account 
 And, furthermore, he swears that he will submit to such treat- 
 ment no longer. But to show his unparalleled forbearance, 
 before all these witnesses, he once more condescends to ask 
 that the long-pending marriage between himself and the Lady 
 Viola Torrillo be solemnized. If this be acceded to, it is 
 well ; if not, the consequences be on your own heads." 
 
 Don Ferdinand paused ; and his followers manifested their 
 satisfaction with applause. Don Manuel was about to reply, 
 when the Lady Viola, pale and haggard with affright, looking 
 more like an inhabitant of another world than a being of flesh 
 and blood, rushed before him, and, seizing him by the hand, 
 wildly exclaimed : 
 
 " The sacrifice must be made. Father, I am ready!" 
 
 A low murmur of commiseration ran through the ranks of 
 both parties, and many of the men in pity, for the moment 
 averted their eyes. 
 
 ." She can at least have a little time for preparation," said a 
 bold soldier in Don Ferdinand's own ranks. 
 
 - " Yes," said another, " the marriage can be put off till to- 
 morrow to please her, now she has agreed to have him." 
 
 Don Ferdinand frowned and bit his lips 
 
 " Silence, knaves," said he. " To-morrow, and to-morrow ! 
 I have sworn it should be to-day." 
 
 Don Manuel, meanwhile, was pressing his weeping daugh- 
 
COHTFESSIONS OF A VILLAIN— TO ARMS. 315 
 
 ter to his breast. Imprinting an affectionate kiss on her fore- 
 head, he released himself from her, but still held her by the 
 hand. 
 
 " Viola !" said he, very deliberately, and in a tone loud 
 enough to be heard by every ear present ; " in the fearful 
 presence of that Being who created us all, I swear you shall 
 never, never be the wife of Ferdinand of Cassino." 
 
 " Will you not let me save you, father ?" said the Lady 
 Viola, imploringly. 
 
 " Life is not worth the sacrifice, my dear," returned Don 
 Manuel, calmly. " I am willing to die, if it be God's will." 
 
 " We will die together," said the maiden. "It is sweet to 
 trust ourselves to God." 
 
 " I am sorry to interrupt your t^te-a-t^te," said Don Ferdi- 
 nand with a sneer ; " but I must remind you that I am here to 
 claim the fulfillment of a contract. The parties are present, the 
 priest is here. Do you refuse to have the ceremony go on?" 
 
 " In the name of justice and mercy, I do," said Don Man- 
 uel. " Has the chevalier Cassino a dispensation from the holy 
 mother church, that he would take a second wife, while he 
 already has one living ?" 
 
 " It is false, false as hell !" exclaimed Don Ferdinand, 
 stamping his foot with rage. " You have been listening to the 
 ravings of Ambrose in his insanity. Poor fellow, he once got 
 the strange notion into his head that because he had a 
 handsome sister, I might be prevailed on to marry her, and 
 make him a great man ; and now that his mind is wandering, 
 he has stumbled on the subject again. But here are Pedro, 
 Bar Jose, Gonzalez, and others, born on my own estates, who 
 have known me from infancy. Ask them. They will tell 
 you I have never been married." 
 
 " Oh, no !" said Pedro and the rest, thus appealed to. 
 " Our lord has never been married. We are ready to swear 
 to that on the holy evangelists." 
 
316 CAMP FIRES OF TITB RED MEN. 
 
 " Don Ferdinand," said Don Manuel, " I do not wish to 
 pursue this subject further, before this crowd of menials, yours 
 and mine ; it is sufficient for me to say that I now know you, 
 that my eyes have been gradually opening to your qualities 
 for many weeks. I am willing to negotiate with you fairly 
 and honorably for an adjustment of all our differences. But 
 expect nothing beyond that from me. You can but have our 
 lives ; and to that, if need be, I and my sweet child will 
 submit." 
 
 " Give them until to-morrow," said a voice. 
 
 " Till to-morrow ! to-morrow !" repeated several others. 
 
 Don Ferdinand scowled, and stamped, and swore; but*t 
 was evident that he wavered. 
 
 " Till to-morrow be it then," at length he said. " Don 
 Manuel Torrillo, I give you till to-morrow noon to redeem 
 your word and written pledge. At the hour of twelve to- 
 morrow the Lady Viola Torrillo becomes the wife of Fer- 
 dinand of Cassino. I grant a truce till then ; that' she may 
 learn to brace her nerves against that maiden terror always 
 so graceful in her sex." 
 
 Thus saying Don Ferdinand withdrew his forces ; and Don 
 Manuel led his daughter, on whose face a sweet and trustful 
 calm now rested, like the glow of morning on the brow of 
 night, into his quarters. But where was good Michael John- 
 son in this emergency ? Don Manuel and his daughter, dur- 
 ing the last trying hour, had anxiously and oft expected him, 
 but he came not ; and now all their inquiries were in vain. 
 No one had seen him sincatan early period of the day. 
 
apitr |jofrt2-janK 
 
 OUB HEBO IN HIS EYRIE ON THE HILLS. A YOUNG MAN'S BETEBIES 
 
 THE SOLITUDES OF NATURE. 
 
 " There Is a pleasure In the pathless -woods, 
 There is a rapture on the Ipnely shore. 
 There is society where none intrudes, 
 
 By the deep sea and music in its roar. 
 I love not man the less but nature more 
 
 From these our interviews, in which I steal 
 From all I may be, or have been before, 
 To mingle with the universe and feel 
 What 1 can ne'er express, yet can not all conceal.' 
 
 WHEN Charles Warwick reached the Susquehanna, on 
 the night he bade adieu to the Spanish fortress, de- 
 pressed and beclouded as he was in mind, he could not but 
 pause and admire the calm river, and the mock firmament 
 of moon and stars, which nature, with exceeding art, had 
 penciled in the water. What painter with his wizard brush, 
 and pallet where his flashing colors glow, though wrought 
 with magic from the mine, or robbed from flies, or stolen from 
 the sun, can hope to rival her ? Those trees that hang adown 
 the crystal deep wave their bright wings for joy; and all the 
 mass of molten silver seems an open window back to paradise. 
 Warwick looked and sighed and prayed, and became 
 peaceful like the scene before him. The beautiful, as is its 
 proper office, led him up to heaven ; and he that looks above 
 finds rest. In a better frame of mind he turned his footsteps 
 up the river. Not that he had any particular object in going 
 in that direction more than another ; but he wished to find 
 some nook where he might lie concealed, and from it, like the 
 
318 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 eagle from his eyrie, watch his foes, and fly in case of need 
 to serve his friends. One vision of sorrow and beauty filled 
 his soul. It was the Lady Viola— the fearful circumstances 
 in which she was left — and his parting from her, perhaps for- 
 ever. 
 
 Thus occupied in mind, he moved heedlessly on, following 
 the curves of the river, sometimes in the full light of a brilliant 
 moon, and again groping his way through trees and tangled 
 shrubs and over shelving cliffs. Alwyn followed at his heels, 
 with that noiseless tread peculiar to his race, stopping when 
 he stopped, and moving as he moved, as though he had been 
 his shadow ; and through the whole night he ventured not to 
 speak, until the lighting up of the east showed that morn was 
 breaking. Then he called Warwick's attention to the fact ; 
 and informed him in addition that they were approaching an 
 Indian settlement. 
 
 Not caring to meet with any of the natives, the young soldier 
 came to a halt, and took counsel of his watchful companion. 
 Then turning to the left among the hills, the two proceeded for 
 some miles through a wild and broken region of dense forest, 
 until, as they judged, they were far enough away from the 
 villages and haunts of the natives to remain for a few days 
 undisturbed. Making choice of a retired glen, a few hours 
 sufficed to erect a rude hut of poles and bark for their accom- 
 modation. 
 
 When this was accomplished, Warwick threw himself on 
 the ground, and yielded himself up to his unbroken fancies. 
 There he lay, his head resting on his hand, and for hours 
 moved not. The faithful Alwyn, meanwhile, sat silently by, 
 or sought, near at hand, for such roots, known to the Indians, 
 and wild fruits, as might serve to lengthen out their scanty 
 supply of food. Night came, was succeeded by day, and was 
 nearly at hand again, when Warwick arose, and directing 
 Alwyn to remain behind, disappeared in the forest. 
 
A YOTJNQ MA2P8 REVERIES. 319 
 
 The young Indian waited long and anxiously for the return 
 of his master, which was not until late in the following morn- 
 ing, when he made his appearance worn out with fatigue and 
 want of sleep. He entered the little lodge, took some re- 
 freshment, and throwing himself on a bed of leaves which 
 Alwyn had gathered, slept long and quietly. 
 
 Notwithstanding this intense and prolonged concentration 
 of thought and feeling on one object, the mind of Charles 
 Warwick was a well-balanced one. True, it was of a vivid 
 kind. Ardent and imaginative, he felt warmly and quickly ; 
 but he acted, when the hour of action came, deliberately. 
 The circumstances of his life had thrown him on himself, and 
 had taught him well for his years how to examine, to decide, 
 and to act ; and though passion might be strong, and imagina- 
 tion restles^ and buoyant, a cool judgment was still the anchor 
 of the youth. But when there could be no action for a coun- 
 terpoise, as in the present case, and affection, hope, and fear 
 had all been spurred to frenzy, then came the strong dominion 
 of feelmg, sufficient with him to shut up and paralyze, for the 
 time, all his external senses, and to center his being in a 
 single thought. 
 
 Such had been the condition of Warwick from which he 
 aroused himself only at the moment, when he determined at 
 all hazards to ascertain the situation of affairs at the fortress. 
 This he accomplished ; and succeeded undiscovered in gain- 
 ing the presence of Michael Johnson, from whom he obtained 
 such information as did much toward quieting his immediate 
 apprehensions. 
 
 For some days thereafter, Alwyn was much of the time 
 hovering about the Spanish camp, spying into its movements, 
 and resorting to a hundred Indian devices to conceal himself 
 from observation ; and but little of moment occurred there 
 which he was not prepared to report to his master. Occa- 
 sionally he fell in with Johnson ; and once, as has been seen, 
 
320 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 he ventured to discover himself to the Lady Viola and her 
 maid. 
 
 Warwick, meanwhile, was left to the resources of his own 
 thoughts. He strove against the unmanly weaknesses, as he 
 was fain to call them, which beset him ; and endeavored to 
 amuse himself by hunting among the hills and fishing in the 
 mountain streams. Still he lived but in a waking dream. 
 One single subject engrossed his soul ; he could not drive it 
 hence, and with others it refused to mingle. In the bright 
 realms of imagination he discovered a variety of ways in which 
 fortune might still be kind : and Viola his, the waves of his 
 troubled sea were still, the breeze was fresh and balmy, the 
 sky serene, and the voyage of life a brilliant succession of 
 delights. But close by these fond fancies were scowling 
 terrors looking in upon him, whispering or screaming in his 
 ears that hope was merest lunacy, and Viola lost forever. In 
 this light, existence itself was a desert, with burning sand? 
 and hot, depressing air, without a flower or blade of grass, oi 
 cooling drop of rain j and he pictured out a few brief years 
 of misanthropic being ; and himself, though still a youth, in 
 the sere and yellow leaf, and ready for the grave. 
 
 And was he then so completely a slave, fettered, bound in 
 the triple chains of the subtile divinity, so that every aspira- 
 tion of the future, and even life itself, were at the mercy of 
 the stubborn child ? Ah, like enough ; and he need not have 
 blushed nor pronounced it a weakness. Others were there 
 before him, and many more will follow in the track. Nature 
 hath ordained it ; and god or no god, a giant or an infant, 
 whether with silken bands or gyves of steel, he found himself 
 subdued by that passion which the fabled deity is supposed 
 to inspire ; one moment yielding to the glowing sunlight of 
 hope, and the next playing with despair. Often as he rambled, 
 his gun and rod were forgotten, and he walked unconscious 
 of the things around him. Again he would awake, and look 
 
A YOUNG .MAIPS REVERIES. 321 
 
 abroad, and listen to the birds, and join them in their songs ; 
 or pausing on some bold hill, he would scan the unbroken 
 wild, and fancy that the solitude of the woods was but a type 
 of that much more profound which reigned within himself. 
 
 But nature's forests are no solitudes. True, man may not 
 be there. The hammer and the axe, the plow, the marble 
 palace, and the clang of war may all be wanting, and still the- 
 woods be full of stir and life. They are the workshops of 
 the Creator. Men and their achievements, the music of their 
 voices and their harps, their eloquent words, their poetry and 
 their smiles, the subtile philosophy of their schools, the tri- 
 umphs of their art, and the monuments of their glory and dis- 
 grace, are not needed there. Creative nature in her conse- 
 crated halls has a power, a music, a poetry, a philosophy, and 
 a splendor all her own. The waking into being of her germs, 
 whence are to spring alike her monarchs and her vines ; the 
 training of her foliage and the painting of her flowers, the 
 molding and ripening of her fruits, and the distilling of her 
 perfumes, these are her forest works. They teach us the 
 power and glory of the Supreme ; and though man may never 
 see them, they are not the less admirable ; though they sub- 
 serve not his pleasures or his wants, they furnish food and 
 shelter to a profusion of animated life, absolutely startling in 
 its vastness and beauty, bowers for the tuneful birds, and lodges 
 for the beasts and insects, and harp-strings for the sweeping 
 winds of heaven. 
 
 14* 
 
DESPONDKNOY. AN ANTIQUE LETTER. INACTION AND ITS CONSKQUKNOES. 
 
 " Fancy enervates, while It soothes the heart, 
 
 And while it dazzles wounds the mental sight : 
 To joy each heightening charm It can impart, 
 
 But wraps the hour of woe in tenfold night. 
 
 And often when no real ills affright, 
 Its visionary fiends, an endless train, 
 
 Assail with equal or superior might, 
 And through the throbbing heart and dizzy brain, 
 And shivering nerves, shoot stings of more than mortal pain." 
 
 DAY after day passed away, and no change occurring in the 
 aspect of his affairs, Warwick gradually sunk into a con- 
 firmed condition of despondency. He could only learn of the 
 camp, that things there remained quiet, and that the Lady 
 Viola was more frequently in the open air, and seemed more 
 cheerful and in better health. For this he was thankful, but 
 this alone could not sustain him in his inactivity. He lacked 
 that patient resolution which, when nothing can be done, 
 should be summoned to our aid to sustain us while we wait. 
 He seemed to himself shut out, and cast from the world again, 
 as when he was a child, without hope, without an object in 
 life ; and he wept bitterly. No longer did he hunt or fish, but 
 left it to his attendant to furnish him with food. Careless 
 alike of comfort or appearance, he sufi*ered his beard to grow, 
 and scribbled complaining verses oA birch bark, which he re- 
 peated to the winds ; or he lay ingloriously in his cabi% and 
 gazed for hours on the only remaining mementoes of the past 
 which he prized — the ring and lock of hair. 
 
 But nature, like the strained bow, until the last frail chord 
 
INACTION AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 323 
 
 of the human instrument, be broken, will improve every occa- 
 sion to rebound ; and w xiile the strings are strong, she will 
 at times, perforce, cast off her burdens. Thus it was with 
 Warwick. When thought and feeling had been tense so long, 
 as completely to exhaust him in the one direction, without an 
 effort on his part, without his consciousness, the whole horizon 
 of his griefs would vanish, and other forms and objects take 
 their place. Then he reviewed his life, and sat in judgment, 
 by what light he had, on his own acts. He sought all fields 
 of thought, the earth, the sky, the life of man, his birth and 
 destiny. Alternately he groped among the splendid mytho- 
 logical fables of the ancients, which, like the action of the sun 
 on frost-work, too often warm the mind only to darken it with 
 mists ; or the chivalry and enchantments of the middle ages ; 
 or the simple but sublime revelations of Christianity. 
 
 Few bright, aspiring intellects escape the atmosphere of 
 the schools without a tinge of infidelity. It is the beautiful 
 province of the Deity, to develop light from darkness, truth 
 from adversity : and now in his hopelessness and distress, it 
 was the fortune of Warwick to become the recipient of the 
 chief good of his being. In his undisturbed reflections, his 
 last remaining doubts were swept away, and he believed. 
 But we use the word in no sectarian sense. He became sat- 
 isfied of an active, superintending Providence, as affirmed by 
 his own consciousness, and taught both by nature and revela- 
 tion. He realized fully, for the first time, that the Great 
 World-Maker is about, that He is above all, the Father of all, 
 and holds the destiny of all in his hands — that though one 
 may seem to be forgotten and uncared for for a time, drive 
 and driving helplessly among rocks and shoals and quicksands,, 
 it is so only in seeming and for wise ends. The Omnipotent 
 eye can not lose sight of His children ; the Omnipotent heart 
 can not cease to throb warmly in their behalf: and though we 
 ^see not the finger that so watchfully corrects the wild diver- 
 
324 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 gencies we make, saving us frequent shipwrecks, the finger 
 is no less there, and the unseen pilot ever at hand to set our 
 barque, if it be not already wholly water-logged or rotten, 
 afloat again upoa the river of life. 
 
 The return of Alwyn from the Spanish camp foimed the 
 only breaks in the monotony of Warwick's existence ; and 
 the day and hour when the young savage finally arrived with 
 an actual epistle from Michael Johnson for his master was 
 considered an era, and worthy to be marked with a white 
 stone. The missive was a curiosity in several respects. 
 The material on which it was written was a film of birch 
 bark, as smooth as parchment ; and the characters were 
 inscribed with a sort of iron-stone, or red chalk, in place of 
 pen or stylus. Though somewhat antiquated in form, they 
 were plain and legible : and what is equally noteworthy, were 
 evidently the oflfspring of a frank and honest mind. 
 
 " I take my pen in hand," wrote Johnson, " or rather I 
 should say my substitute for a pen (a thing I havn't done 
 afore in many years, though in my younger days I was some- 
 thing given to writing), to inform you we are well : hoping, 
 my dear boy, that these few lines will find you enjoying the 
 same blessing. Things are every day growing stranger and 
 stranger here, and I'm really at a loss to guess out the end. 
 After you went away, we were considerable quiet for a time ; 
 but now Ferdinand has got well, and grumbles and carries on 
 worse tl\an ever. The work is almost at a stand-still, and 
 the object we came here for forgotten : or, at any rate, the 
 digging don't go on to any purpose. The men are uneasy 
 and quarrelsome, as well as their masters : and I sometimes 
 think things are shaping for a regular outbreak and rebellion. 
 
 " That^ dear child, the Lady Viola, is like a wilted lily. 
 She cries and laughs by turns, but there is no comfort in her 
 heart. If she could see you, my boy, I think 'twould do her 
 more good than any thing else : but that can't be at present. 
 
HTAOTION AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 325 
 
 A few days ago she was improving ; but since Ferdinand has 
 got about, and is so stormy, she is worse again. I do what I 
 can to cheer her up, and tell her, if worse comes to worse, 
 there is a Power that will not forsake her. 
 
 " I'm almost certain that I do wrong in telling you these 
 things. It will only make you feel bad, and do no good. 
 But if you keep stout at heart, it won't hurt you. I don't 
 really think Ferdinand will dare to come to blows ; though 
 it's certain he scatters money pretty freely among the men. 
 He's a coward by nater, and stands in awe' of Don Manuel. 
 I shall keep a close watch of him, and guard our flower well : 
 and so good-bye, my dear boy, and God bless you !" 
 
 But the novelty of this arrival was soon over ; and our 
 hero, with regret be it spoken, though on the whole in a bet- 
 ter frame of mind, still indulged himself in dreamy fits of 
 despondent inactivity ; for which, as we can by no means 
 escape the consequences of our acts, he was fated to suffer. 
 One sultry afternoon, in the absence of his faithful shadow, 
 Alwyn, as he lay musing under a tree near his hut, his wits 
 all wool-gathering, he suddenly found himself in the hands 
 of half a dozen savages : and before he could wake up 
 to offer any effectual resistance, his arms were pinioned, and 
 he perceived himself a prisoner. 
 
 Blank surprise, and chagrin that he had thus tamely deliv- 
 ered himself into the hands of his enemies, for the moment 
 deprived him of the power of utterance. He looked at his 
 captors. They were stout, supple fellows ; and he imbibed 
 no consolation from the fact that they were plainly chuckling 
 with satisfaction over their bloodless victory. He recog- 
 nized no countenance among them, but it was soon quite clear 
 that he was known to them, and an object of their especial 
 regard. They hurried him rapidly away. No sooner were 
 they out of sight of his cabin, than they re-adjusted the fasten- 
 ings on his arms, searched his person for concealed weapons, 
 
326 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 and arranged themselves, one on each side, and two in front 
 and rear, as the order of their further march. Perceiving 
 that escape and resistance were equally hopeless, and judg- 
 ing from the aspect of the case that all parley would be 
 worse than useless, with a swelling heart he suffered them 
 to urge him on in silence. 
 
 The party reached the Susquehanna at a quick pace, and 
 bearing up the right bank for several miles, ultimately emerged 
 upon a cleared and cultivated plain, indicating the near prox- 
 imity of an Indian settlement. Very shortly, on rising a 
 slight eminence, Warwick found himself in the midst of a 
 mx)tley assemblage of women and children, who, vying with 
 each other in the confusion of tongues which they produced, 
 seemed very desirous to exhibit toward him some touching 
 evidences of their regard. He was saved from the marks of 
 their digits, however, by the care of his captors, who, by a 
 show of resolution, seconded by occasional blows, succeeded 
 in keeping the rabble at bay. The village was directly in 
 advance : and with little delay the prisoner was conducted 
 between rows of Indian huts to a log tenement which an- 
 swered the purposes of a prison, where, bound hand and 
 foot, he was left to his own reflections. 
 
 Warwick was now himself again. The equilibrium of his 
 mind was restored : and this had been accomplished by the 
 occurrence of a real calamity. The event taught him a val- 
 uable lesson, should he be so happy as to escape from cap- 
 tivity with his life, that he might profit by it. It taught him 
 the difference between threatening and positive inflictions. 
 His late griefs, in the main, had been prospective. His 
 present one was real, and like enough to be fatal. The first 
 had broken him ddwn ; the last had strengthened and restored 
 him. Strange creatures are we. With the mass of mankind, 
 imaginary evils, or those in the distance which may never 
 reach them, are endured with less patience and firmness than 
 
INACTION AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 327 
 
 the blows and the burdens when they come. Better, far 
 better is it, to trust the sorrows which frown on the horizon 
 of the future to the mercy and care of Heaven, and content 
 ourselves with the troubles, always enough, of the present. 
 
 The arrival of the prisoner in the settlement, as soon as it 
 became fully known, seemed to answer as a signal to its in- 
 habitants for the opening afresh of the flood-gates of their 
 grief. The wails of women and children, for husbands and 
 fathers and brothers, slain on the Delaware, mingled with 
 cries for vengeance, filled the air : and Warwick had no diflSi- 
 culty in coming to the conclusion that he was destined to 
 furnish the first ofl*ering to appease the ghosts of the departed. 
 They gathered round his prison, and clamored for his life : 
 they beat the wooden walls with stones and sticks ; and spit 
 on them to show their hatred and disgust ; while they called 
 him the false friend, who had drank at their fountain and eaten 
 of their bread, and then imbrued his hands in their blood. As 
 the youth listened, though he shrunk with horror from their 
 accusations, he was not paralyzed by the impending danger. 
 Disposing himself to meet with calmness any fate to which 
 Providence might assign him, he nerved every faculty of his 
 mind to take advantage of any passing occurrence, or com- 
 bination of circumstances, which might oflTer him a chance of 
 liberation. 
 
 The Indian, Alwyn, at the time of the capture of his friend 
 and master, was away scouring the forest for supplies. On 
 his return to the lodge, his sharp eye at once detected marks 
 of unfamiliar footsteps ; and when he found that Warwick was 
 no longer there, his bosom was filled with alarm. Running 
 from one point to another, he soon completed his examination 
 of the vicinage, and arranged his conclusions. His master 
 was a prisoner. There was the spot where he had been sur- 
 prised. The impression on the leaves where he had lain, the 
 indentures in tire mold, made by his elbows and his knees. 
 
328 CAMP FIBES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 in the short but ineffectual struggle, were all plain enough to 
 the savage : and from the different footprints he was even 
 able to discover the number of the enemies that beset him. 
 He rejoiced that there were no traces of blood ; and without 
 wasting time in vain lamentations, he set himself like a hound 
 on the trail. 
 
 His zeal and activity enabled him to overtake the party, 
 long before their arrival at the village ; but as no opportunity 
 offered to attempt the rescue of his master, he did not show 
 himself. Alwyn was well aware that he had become an object 
 of distrust to his people since he had deserted them ; still he 
 did not hesitate to march boldly into the Oquago village. 
 Though its inhabitants were not of his particular tribe, he 
 knew them well ; and doubted not that the veneration in which 
 they held the memory of his father, would secure him a 
 safe, if not a friendly reception. 
 
 It was now twilight. The uproar had dwindled to a sort 
 of calm — the loud lamentations and cries of rage had given 
 place to a succession of subdued and mournful wails. The 
 natives of both sexes were principally out of doors ; and the 
 women were lighting fires, preparatory to a night of jubilee. 
 As they recognized Alwyn among them, some gazed sadly at 
 him without speaking, others accosted him civilly, and a few 
 scowled contemptuously ; but none impeded his progress. He 
 made his way without interruption to the lodge of the principal 
 chief. 
 
 The Oquago received him kindly, invited him to enter, and 
 set food before him. But when he found that the renegade 
 son of Rollingbow was interested in the fate of his white cap- 
 tive, that his object was to intercede for his life, he refused to 
 listen to him. He would not withdraw the hospitality he had 
 tendered ; and informed Alwyn that for the sake of his father 
 he should be a welcome guest at his cabin ; but he must remain 
 silent on the subject of Captain Warwick. 
 
INACTION AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 329 
 
 The night, to a late hour, was given by the Indians to 
 rejoicing. Alwyn perceived that he was an object of sus- 
 picion, and that his actions were closely watched. Neverthe- 
 less, both on that evening and the following day, he frequently 
 approached the prison where his master was confined ; but he 
 was warned away by the guard, and failed to communicate 
 with him. Neither was he more successful in his attempts to 
 learn from the natives what were the intentions of the savages 
 with respect to the final disposition to be made of their cap- 
 tive. Direct questions and stratagems were resorted to in 
 vain. Every one was on his guard against him: and he could 
 only draw his conclusions from what came under his imme- 
 diate observation. These were all unfavorable : and his ap- 
 prehensions were still increased by the arrival at the Oquago 
 village of several neighboring and important chiefs of the 
 Confederacy. 
 
FOLITICAL POSITION OF THE SIX NATIONS. THE TRIAL. OLD CHARAOTEKS 
 IN A NEW DRESS. 
 
 *' Though justice be thy plea, consider tbls- 
 That in the course of justice none of us 
 Should see salvation." 
 
 MEANTIME the hours passed heavily with Warwick. He 
 was soon aware of the presence of one friend, Ihe faithful 
 Alwyn, whose voice he detected as the youth spoke to the 
 sentinels. He also repeatedly caught sight of him through 
 the chinks in his prison walls, on the second day : and though 
 he could not speak with him, the consciousness that there was 
 one heart nigh, though incased in the brown skin of an untutor- 
 ed Indian boy, that sympathized with him, was an unspeakable 
 satisfaction. It was like a pleasant dew falling on a thirsty 
 plain. As yet nothing had occurred to indicate the exact 
 doom which awaited him. The sentinels, and those who 
 came to him with food, were silent, moving figures. If he 
 spoke to them, they paid no attention to it. No one came to 
 visit him ; and to his urgent and repeated requests for an inter- 
 view with the head chief, no answer was returned. Still he* 
 felt composed, and ate and slept well. 
 
 Thus closed the second day ; and notwithstanding the delay, 
 somewhat unusual in the administration of the Indian code, 
 the savages were by no means playing with their prisoner. 
 The worst passions were aroused and busy among them, and 
 the deferring of the sacrifice for a brief period was only 
 designed to prolong their gratification, and at the same time 
 
TEE TRIAL. 331 
 
 give an appearance of deliberation to their proceedings. It 
 was well known to them that their captive was a British 
 officer, and some little apprehension of the consequences of 
 their acts would, in spite of them, obtrude itself on their 
 counsels. He was also one whose name was familiar in the 
 Confederacy. He had indeed achieved a certain degree of 
 popularity with them, by the frankness of his character, as 
 exhibited during the pendency of some important negotiations : 
 and most of them knew him very well by report, and some of 
 them had met with him in person. All these considerations 
 seemed to advise them to an unusual circumspection in their 
 proceedings. 
 
 But with the American Indian revenge of injuries is the 
 master passion. Forgiveness of wrongs finds no place in his 
 breast: and of mercy to an enemy he never dreams. Exter- 
 mination of all foes i§ a part of his religion. It was the prime 
 article in the creed of his fathers. He drew it in with his 
 mother's milk. It formed the first chapter in the lessons of 
 his childhood : and in manhood, without a doubt to embarrass 
 him, he unshrinkingly practices upon it. Unsated vengeance 
 preys on his mind like the fabled vampyre on the heart of its 
 victim. He can not eat, he can not sleep, he can not rest, 
 until the appetite of the demon within him is slaked. And 
 still the Indian is a faithful friend. 
 
 But though the Indian character were different — though the 
 soft breath of mercy had fallen on the sons of the wilderness 
 like melting rain, what good reason had Warwick to hope for 
 an acquittal at their hands, viewed as he was by them in the 
 light of a false friend and insidious traitor ? He had partaken 
 of. their hospitality ; he had influenced them to spare their 
 enemy, until that enemy had made himself strong with de- 
 fenses ; and then had joined that enemy and imbrued his own 
 hands in their blood. Many widows were mourning for their 
 lords : and if the Indians burned with hostility toward the 
 
332 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 Spaniards, they were consumed with a double fire in their 
 hatred of him who had betrayed them, and been the efficient 
 cause, as they beliered, of their late most disastrous and 
 bloody defeat. 
 
 To fan these feelings into an intensity still more vivid were 
 the emissaries of the rival power of Great Britain on the 
 American Continent, already present, as they were every- 
 where ; and who, sometimes Frenchmen in the disguise of 
 savages, and sometimes Indians paid for the service, were 
 ever busy and on the alert to sow disaffection, and foment 
 ill-blood between the natives and the Colonies of England. 
 Accordingly, to the partisans and emissaries of France, the 
 present occasion was an important one. The deliberate put- 
 ting to death of a British ojfficer by the Six Nations might be 
 converted into a firebrand, which would hardly fail to kindle 
 a conflagration. On it might hinge the most vital results — a 
 break with the whole North American tribes, and the down- 
 fall of the threatened British supremacy in the New World. 
 
 The most active and influential agent of the French inter- 
 est, who presented himself at the Oquago village, at this time, 
 was an old man, an Indian or a half-breed, in a mixed dress 
 of aboriginal and European trappings, who was called Sir 
 John. He rested not a moment ; he mingled in their coun- 
 cils ; he conversed separately with their chiefs and warriors, 
 and brought to bear every cunning appliance known to the 
 most expert politician, to stimulate their fury, to swell their 
 pride, and remove any incipient doubt or apprehension which 
 might find a momentary lodgment in their minds. 
 
 Contrary to the advice of Sir John, the chiefs determined 
 to concede to the prisoner a form of trial ; and the third day 
 of his captivity was set apart for the proceedings. These 
 were to be in public, that the justice of his condemnation 
 might be manifest to all ; and that nothing might be wanting 
 in the fairness of the procedure, should they be called on to 
 
TBE TRIAL. 333 
 
 account for their acts by their British allies, he was to be 
 present, and to be allowed the privilege of a defense. 
 
 The third day came. At about 10 o'clock Warwick was 
 led forth. The manacles were removed from his legs, to per- 
 mit him some freedom of motion ; but he was surrounded by 
 a strong guard, and two stalwart savages held him by the 
 arms. In this manner he was conducted to^n open space in 
 the center of the village, where, beneath the spreading branches 
 of a magnificent butternut tree, was a leveled and slightly ele- 
 vated plain or clayed floor, ordinarily devoted to purposes of 
 council. To the trunk of this tree he was firmly bound ; but 
 in such a manner as to allow him to move, and to give him no 
 unnecessary annoyance : and around him, in a circle, the sav- 
 ages proceeded to seat themselves on the ground. 
 
 The Oquago, a grave and venerable chief, presided at the 
 solemn inquest which ensued. He occupied the central point 
 in the inner range, nearest the prisoner ; and on either side 
 of him were seated those dignitaries, according to rank, whom 
 age, prowess, or the reputation of wisdom entitled to act the 
 part of accusers and judges.^ Behind these were the warriors 
 or braves ; and beyond still were the young men, the women, 
 and the children ^ a mixed multitude, but all, as would appear, 
 occupying places according to a certain order of precedence. 
 'They were decked in their gaudiest trappings ; the braves 
 were fully armed, and besmeared with paint, until they had 
 transformed themselves into every possible image of terror. 
 
 When all were seated, a grave silence of a few minutes 
 ensued, during which Warwick surveyed, with some anxiety 
 and minuteness, the assemblage before him. Alwyn was no- 
 where to be seen. There were faces there, however, which 
 he recognized ; but from no countenance could he gather hope. 
 All was stolid indifference, or worse. The old men sat at 
 their ease, immovable, and to appearance as unimpassioned as 
 statues ; while the eyes of the younger portion, as they met 
 
334 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MElfT. 
 
 his, gleamed on him with the ferocity of tigers. No sym- 
 pathy was there. He might as soon think to melt the rocks 
 with a tear, as to move those creatures with sentiments of 
 compassion. Still Warwick yielded not to despair. He 
 quailed not before his foes. He nerved himself bravely to his 
 fate, and sent his thoughts upward, and felt that if all the 
 world had deserted him, there was still One who was his 
 Father and his Friend. 
 
 At length the Oquago arose, and in a brief and temperate 
 speech gave a statement of the facts in the case. Of him and 
 what he said, the American felt he had little right to com- 
 plain. He spoke of Great Britain as the ancient ally of the 
 Six Nations ; of their father across the great water, the King 
 of England, in terms of affectionate regard ; of the unity and 
 good faith which had generally subsisted between them, and 
 which had now "been unfortunately outraged by a British sub- 
 ject. He spoke of the prisoner as one who had enjoyed the 
 confidence and esteem of the Confederacy, but who had abused 
 both, and turned the confidence they reposed in him to their 
 destruction. In the narration which he gave to support this 
 charge, the speaker was careful not to go beyond the facts, 
 as he understood them. He formally absolved England and 
 the Colonies from all participation in the acts of the prisoner, 
 spoke of the strong desire of the Indians to be at peace, and 
 continue to maintain harmonious relations with their white 
 neighbors ; and concluded by saying that it was obviously best 
 for all that he who had undertaken to disturb those relations 
 should perish, that no cause of dissatisfaction might remain. 
 
 The old chief was followed by a professed orator, who gave 
 at length and in detail a most vivid history of every circura 
 stance which could be brought to bear against the prisoner. 
 He commenced with the appearance of the Spaniards in the 
 Indian country, people of a dark white- race, neither English 
 nor French, who had come in an armed body among them, no 
 
TBE TRIAL. 335 
 
 one knew for what ; who had killed their deer, trampled down 
 their corn, and insulted their women and braves. He nar- 
 rated particularly the first ov«rt act of hostility on the part of 
 these men, which resulted ii the capture of Don Ferdinand. 
 He spoke of the interference of the prisoner in the Spaniard's 
 behalf; described in burning words the subsequent unpro- 
 voked murder of Helmo, and the just and deep indignation of 
 the Indians which followed. He pictured in glowing colors 
 their preparations for revenge ; the treachery of Warwick, 
 his flight to the Spanish camp, and its consequences. He 
 delineated with consummate skill the attack, planned and 
 led on by Rolhngbow, the Onondaga, and pointed out the 
 cause of its failure, as he shook his long finger at the prisoner. 
 He described, like a master of his art, the several successive 
 assaults ; and closed with a representation, too vivid for aught 
 but reality, of the horrors of that dreadful night, which wit- 
 nessed the death of Rollingbow, and the slaughter of fifty of 
 their bravest warriors. 
 
 While this eloquent declaimer was on his feet, the whole 
 audience, moved by his descriptions and appeals, and fasci- 
 nated by the melody and grace of his voice and gestures, hung 
 entranced and breathless on his lips. As he closed, they 
 seemed to gasp for breath ; and turning slowly from the 
 speaker to the prisoner, they began to sway to and fro like a 
 heavy wave, and in an instant a hundred voices broke upon 
 the air : 
 
 " Let him die ! L^t him be burned !" they shouted. 
 
 But this disorderly proceeding was at once checked by the 
 Oquago ; and another orator arose. He spoke fluently and 
 well. All his attitudes and motions were easy and natural ; 
 but his matter was only a new combination of what had al- 
 ready been said. 
 
 The fourth speaker, as a branch of his argument, enforced 
 the necessity of Ihe immediate expulsion of the whole Spanish 
 
336 CAMP FirtES OF TffE BSD MEK 
 
 party from the Indian territory, or their entire extermination. 
 The prisoner he considered the enemy's right arm, which, all 
 else aside, they were bound to lop off in self-defense. 
 
 The part of the prosecution seemed here to have come to 
 a close ; and the Oquago again arose, and notified the prisoner, 
 that, if he had any thing to say, he would now be heard. Not 
 that he considered a lenity of this nature at all necessary to 
 the administration of justice ; but he had understood that such 
 was the custom of the whites; and in the trial of a white, 
 especially one of the prisoner's rank, he was willing that 
 every right which his own laws secured should be extended 
 to him, that all the world might see that he was justly con- 
 demned, and equally by English as by Indian justice. 
 
 Futile, as it was evident, any attempt at a justification of 
 himself must be, the love of life — and oh, how strong it is, 
 and should be, with the young ! — impelled Warwick at once 
 to accept the proffered favor. At this terrible and hopeless 
 hour he felt it an imperative necessity and duty not to give 
 way, but to struggle on, and defend to the utmost that boon of 
 existence which God had given him. But with what words 
 should he address his judges.? How could he explain the 
 complicated circumstances and motives which had influenced 
 his acts, in such a way as to render them intelligible to sav- 
 ages 1 And yet he felt that he had done nothing worthy of 
 death ; that he was an innocent man. 
 
 Warwick was sufficiently acquainted with the Indian tongue 
 to understand most of what had been said, and to render him- 
 self intelligible in reply. He requested that the cords which 
 bound his arms might be loosed, that he might speak with 
 more freedom, and it was granted. He then proceeded to 
 ask their attention to what he was about to say in his defense 
 — not in denial of the specific acts which had been charged 
 upon him ; those he acknowledged he had committed : nor 
 yet to solicit their compassion^ for he was not afraid to die. 
 
TEE TRIAL. 337 
 
 What he had to say would be in explanation of those acts : 
 when he should leave it to the great Confederacy of the Six 
 Nations, the chiefs and warriors there present, to do him jus- 
 tice. 
 
 He denied that he had been a traitor to them.'* He was 
 their friend: he had been their friend from the beginning: 
 but it was to his own household that a man and a warrior 
 owed his first duty. The Spaniards were of his own blood : 
 among them were those, as it were, of his own family ; whom 
 he loved and felt bound to protect, as a man should love and 
 protect his father, or his mother; or the wife of his bosom. 
 
 " In entering the Indian country," continued the prisoner, 
 "these strangers intended you no harm. They wished to be 
 at peace with you ; and to make sure of a good understand- 
 ing, I came among you in advance. But as you all do know, 
 in every wood there is a crooked tree — in every tribe there 
 is one violent man. My Spanish friends are no exception to 
 this general law. Among them is the chevalier Don Ferdi- 
 nand de Cassino. You know him : he was once your pris- 
 oner, as I am now. I induced you to set him free. Per- 
 haps I was wrong in that. My excuse is, that I then did not 
 understand him as I do now. I have no doubt that he mur- 
 dered the guide that was sent to conduct him back to his 
 friends. He has since attempted my life. He is my most 
 deadly foe. He is the foe of Don Manuel Torrillo, the Span- 
 ish chief. He is the enemy of us all : and he it is who 
 is responsible for all the bloodshed and trouble which has 
 ensued. 
 
 " When poor Helmo was murdered, I asked the noble Rol- 
 ingbow to let vengeance sleep, if but for a day, that I might 
 go to the Spanish chief and have justice done without fur- 
 ther bloodshed or war. But the hot blood of the warrior was 
 up. He refused to hear me. He armed his braves, and 
 invited you all to join him in seeking revenge. At such a 
 
 15 
 
338 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEX. 
 
 X , 
 
 time what ought I to have done ? I loved my Indian friends : 
 I loved my ovi^n brothers. For the guilt of Ferdinand of 
 Cassino should I leave my innocent ones to perish ? Under 
 such circumstances what would you have done ? Would 
 you have forsaken your own blood ? No — no ! You, noble 
 men and chiefs who are my judges, understand the duty of a 
 warrior better. I did as you would do. I flew to the aid of 
 those so dear to me. I fought for them, I defended them, 
 even against my friends. If for this I am deserving of death, 
 in the name of the Great Spirit, who is equally the God of 
 the white men and the red men, execute it upon me !" 
 
 As Warwick ceased speaking, he could not but watch the 
 effect of his words with an interest most intense. The bold- 
 ness of his defense had evidently taken his auditors by sur- 
 prise. He had made an impression ; but, alas ! too faint a 
 one to avail him. The slight murmur of approbation died 
 away ; the look of admiration faded : and all again was cold 
 and still. At this crisis the young Indian, Alwyn, pale, hag- 
 gard, and breathless, burst through the crowd into the open 
 space in the center, and threw himself at the feet of the 
 Oquago. His object was at once comprehended ; and several 
 of the braves, as they arose to seize him, taunted him to his 
 face. 
 
 " His father was a great chief," said they, " but he has the 
 soul of a woman. He is fit only to serve the white man." 
 
 The young savage indignantly regained his feet. His eyes 
 flashed fire and his breast heaved with emotion. 
 
 " Hear me !" he shouted in a clear and commanding voice, 
 which startled and awed his listeners. " Ye call me a woman. 
 Was Rollingbow a greater warrior than you ? His blood runs 
 here !" extending at the same time his slight but muscular 
 arm. "Did you love my father? Then why forget what 
 this Yengee did to save him when he perished? Ah! but 
 the Yengee fought against us ! Well, he fought for his 
 
THE TRIAL. 339 
 
 brothers : he fought to save his white bird — the joy of his 
 bosom, the hope of his life. Can ye not remember ? Have 
 ye forgotten that he gave us back many prisoners unhurt; 
 and our dead to bury ?" 
 
 " Boy !" sternly interrupted Sir John, suddenly springing 
 to his feet : " Your sires have listened patiently. Will you 
 give way to men ? There has been talking enough. It is 
 now time to act. Women and children cry when warriors' 
 hearts are strong. The blood of our brothers is not yet 
 avenged. Their spirits are angry at the delay. They must 
 be appeased. The prisoner must die. Here are his weapons 
 still red with the blood of our brothers and sons. Let them 
 be washed in the pale water of his heart. Then will the 
 ghosts of our kindred he at rest." 
 
 The speaker held extended in his hand the sword and rifle 
 which belonged to Warwick. Several braves sprung forward 
 to receive them : but before they could execute the hellish 
 purpose he had indicated, there was a sudden tumult : and a 
 tall, gaunt figure, with the strides of a Hercules, overturning 
 some, and thrusting others from his path, suddenly appeared 
 in their midst, and sprung like an enraged tiger upon Sir 
 John. The unexpected apparition was none other than 
 Michael Johnson. Seizing his victim by the throat, he gazed 
 a moment into his face, as though to make sure of his iden- 
 tity, and threw him on the ground with a force which de- 
 prived him of sensation. 
 
 All was at once confusion and alarm. The women shriek- 
 ed ; the men sprung to their feet ; and a hundred knives were 
 flashing at the instant in a hundred hands. Those near John- 
 son attempted to seize or disable him, but he, with astonish- 
 ing agility and strength, threw them from him, and avoided 
 their blows ; until, having cleared a small space, he caused 
 his ever ready rifle to play around him in a circle, and with 
 such a velocity as to force them back and keep them at bay. 
 
340 CAMP FIRB8 OF TSB BED MEIT. 
 
 " Stand off, my men !" he thundered. " I come as a friend 
 and a brother. Have any of you ever heard of the White 
 Eagle of the Mohawks % Look on him again !" 
 
 Thus saying he threw open his vest, and exposed to their 
 view the figure of an eagle, and the symbol of his tribe, im- 
 perishably punctured in his skin. The sign was acknowl- 
 edged : the uplifted weapons fell : and Wisset, the young 
 chief of the Mohawks, and a son of the brave old Hendrick, 
 Johnson's ancient friend, immediately came forward and gave 
 him his hand. Others pressed in to follow his example : but 
 the attention of the White Eagle had already reverted to 
 another object. He wa» gazing at the still insensible Indian 
 at his feet. 
 
 " Is that John the Wild Cat ?" said he. 
 
 " That is the Wild Cat," replied the Mohawk. 
 
 Johnson knelt down beside him. 
 
 ** I have been too fast," said he. " John must not die yet.** 
 
 He placed his hand on the Wild Cat's heart. He shrieked 
 in his ear : he called for water, and bathed his face and neck. 
 At length the Indian gasped : but reviving animation seemed 
 slow and uncertain. Age, if it had not cooled. his passions, 
 had chilled the current of his veins ; and some time elapsed, 
 made up of moments of terrible suspense to Johnson, before 
 he was sufficiently recovered to speak. 
 
 " Do you know me ?" shouted Johnson. 
 
 " I do," faintly articulated the Indian. 
 
 " Then tell me what became of my child. Does he live T 
 
 The Wild Cat made an ineffectual effort to reply. Johnson 
 bent over his dreadful enemy, his eyes almost starting from 
 their sockets, his face pale as that of his expiring foe ; but 
 every nerve and every muscle strained to their utmost tension 
 by the grasping despairing agony of his mind. He placed 
 his ear to the Wild Cat's lips. 
 
 " He lives," breathed the savage in a whisper. 
 
THE TRIAL. 341 
 
 " He lives !" shrieked Johnson, springing to his feet. " My 
 Paul lives ! Tell me where, and I forgive you all !" 
 
 The dying Indian made a convulsive motion, and his last, 
 in the direction of the prisoner. But, by this time, memory 
 was busy with Warwick, remolding the shadowy images of 
 his infancy. 
 
 " My father !" he exclaimed. Johnson sprung forward, and 
 the old man of many troubles, who had never fainted betore, 
 fell insensible on the bosom of his manacled son. 
 
THE PITHER AND SON. CLOUDS BREAKING AND THE PRIZE IN TIEW. 
 
 ' All is best, though we oft doubt 
 What the unsearchable dispose 
 Of highest Wisdom brings about." 
 
 THE Indians were by no means indifferent spectators of the 
 incidents last recorded. Their sympathies were aroused ; 
 a brief consultation was held by the principal chiefs ; when 
 Wisset, the Mohawk, addressed the softened multitude. 
 
 He alluded to the solemn and extraordinary events which 
 had just transpired before their eyes ; and proceeded to ex- 
 plain to them some things necessary to a proper understand- 
 ing of them. He recalled to their minds the services of the 
 White Eagle, rendered to the Nations many years before ; 
 which were of such a character as to elevate him by general 
 consent, though a pale face, to the dignity of a chief. He 
 recurred to the loss of his child also, many years before, 
 while yet a mere infant, through the mad revenge of John 
 the Wild Cat ; and to the»great efforts that were made, but in 
 vain, for the lad's recovery. He recalled to their recollection 
 the fact, that the Wild Cat had fled, at the time, an outlaw 
 from the Confederacy : and that he had never returned among 
 them, until of late ; when he was only tolerated in his char- 
 acter of an envoy of the French ; and that the claim he had 
 set up of still being a subject of the Nations was impudent 
 and false. 
 
 Finally the speaker, with the voice and bearing of a 
 
TEE FATHER AND SON. 343 
 
 _ ^ , 
 
 prophet, declared that the hand of the Great Spirit was evi- 
 dently working among them. The appearance of the White 
 Eagle on the scene, after many years of absence ; and his dis- 
 covery of his son just at the moment when the youth was 
 about to suffer death for crimes which it now seemed probable 
 others had committed ; and the mysterious end of the Wild 
 Cat, now lying dead before them, as though struck by a bolt 
 from heaven, were a sufficient indication of the wishes of 
 their Great Father. His children would submit. " Let the 
 prisoner's bands be cut," said he, " and let us all rejoice with 
 the old chief who has found his son." 
 
 This happy termination to the exciting incidents of the day 
 was received with general applause. Some few grumbled, 
 but their murmurs were drowned in the enthusiastic shout of 
 satisfaction which broke upon the air, as a seal to the verdict 
 of their chiefs ; and which restored the unconscious Johnson 
 to himself. With trembling hands he assisted to unbind his 
 son ; and Warwick again stood forth, under the beautiful sky, 
 and stretched his tortured limbs in freedom. He had found 
 his father — not, it is true, in the most elevated sphere of life, 
 according to the world's esteem; but he was satisfied. He 
 could not wish it otherwise. He already loved the old man 
 deeply ; and he felt prouder of his sire as he was, plain 
 Michael Johnson, one on whom God, and not men, had set the 
 stamp of greatness, than though he had found him clothed in 
 gold and purple. And Lucy too, that Lucy — the pure and 
 innocent being over whose sorrows and early fate he had 
 wept — yes, that Lucy, still the old man's dream of hope, was 
 his mother. 
 
 With many turbulent demonstrations of pleasure, the father 
 and son were conducted by the savages to a separate lodge, 
 where, food having been set before them, with an unusual 
 delicacy of appreciation, they were left to themselves. But 
 both were too full for speech ; and clasping each other's hands 
 
344 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 they communed long in silence. At length, sinking on his 
 knees, his son beside him^ the veteran gave modest thanks to 
 the Supreme Ruler of events for the gieat good with which 
 his age was blessed. 
 
 The presence of Johnson at the Oquago village, so oppor- 
 tune for the safety of Warwick, as the reader has doubtless 
 surmised, was owing to the active sagacity of the young In* 
 dian Alwyn. Failing to make any impression on his people, 
 and perceiving by the note of preparation that they jvere 
 determined on a sacrifice, he hastened to the Spanish camp. 
 His whistle from a brake near the fort brought Johnson imme- 
 diately to his side. But what could be done ? How was 
 Warwick to be saved? The whole Spanish forces, were 
 they at the veteran's command, would hardly suffice to rescue 
 him. And in what condition were these forces ? Just on the 
 eve, as the old man plainly foresaw, of an outbreak among 
 themselves ; and a large majority of them already secured by 
 Don Ferdinand de Cassino, Warwick's implacable foe, to do 
 his bidding. But the youth must not be left to perish without 
 an effort for his salvation ; and trusting to the omnipotent 
 God, rather than his own strength, Johnson accompanied Al- 
 wyn to the Oquago settlement. The result we have already 
 seen. 
 
 Meanwhile, with the father and son, time flew by on 
 uncounted hours. As soon as they had gratified each other 
 with the more important incidents of their own personal his- 
 tories, their thoughts naturally reverted to their friends in the 
 Spanish camp. 
 
 " I hardly know what answers to give you," ^aid Johnson, 
 in reply to several hurried questions on the part of Warwick. 
 " Things are bad enough, sartainly ; and I fear our help will 
 be needed quite as soon as we can find it convenient to get 
 there." 
 
 " What, to repel violence V said Warwick. 
 
THE FATHER AND SON. 345 
 
 " Quite likely," returned the old hunter. " Don Ferdinand 
 is getting more outrageous every day ; and Don Manuel has 
 altered his hand too. He has made up his mind, at last, that 
 the Lady Viola, sweet thing ! shan't be sacrificed body and 
 Boul ; and the chevalier knows it pretty well, too." 
 
 " And what is likely to be the result of a struggle between 
 them ?" inquired Warwick, anxiously. 
 
 *' God only knows," returned Johnson. " It was but yes 
 terday that Don Manuel inquired of me about you — havin' a 
 vague suspicion, he said, that you were not far away. It is 
 sartain in my mind, if he had help enough to back him, that 
 he would'nt dally an hour longer with Ferdinand. He would 
 settle accounts with him in a hurry, I guess." 
 
 " Did you infer," said Warwick, in some trepidation, " that 
 he would be glad of my presence in the camp in this ap- 
 proaching crisis ?" 
 
 " He said so in so many words, my boy," returned the 
 veteran. 
 
 " I will soon be there then," said Warwick. " Let us lose 
 no time in giving him the benefit of our counsel and our 
 strength." 
 
 " Not too fast, my boy," said the old man. " We are but 
 four hands when we get there ; or six, at the outside, count- 
 ing the child Alwyn. But here am I, by God's blessing, 
 among friends ; and I've thought of proposin' to them to give 
 us a trifle of help. A hundred or two of copper-skins at our 
 back would quite cheer us up in payin' our respects to Don 
 Ferdinand." 
 
 This suggestion, of course, met with the hearty approval 
 of Warwick. Johnson, however, informed him that he would 
 be obliged to school his patience a little, as he perceived by 
 the noise that the Indians were getting up a powwow for 
 the night, and it would be useless to broach the subject to 
 them until that should be brought to a close. Warwick then 
 
 15* 
 
346 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEK 
 
 proceeded to inquire more particularly after the welfare of the 
 Lady Viola. 
 
 " Poor thing !" said Johnson, in reply, " she is bad enough ; 
 and still she keeps up as well as could possibly be expected 
 under the circumstances. Her father is gettin' almost dis- 
 tracted about her : and it was that, I guess, that drove him to 
 consult me so freely yesterday. First he spoke of Don Fer- 
 dinand's rascally conduct in tampering with his servants and 
 followers. He said that he himself was now poor ; and that 
 thpugh he had received many tokens of attachment from his 
 dependents, they were still human ; and not, he feared, above 
 the corrupting influence of deceitful promises and gold. 
 
 " Don Manuel Torrillo," continued the veteran, " is now a 
 very different man from what he was when I first knew him. 
 His troubles, and this about Viola more than any thing else, 
 have broken him down. I saw, yesterday in particular, that 
 his spirits were all gone ; and that he was almost ready to 
 give up in despair. His eyes looked wild-like ; he would 
 make sudden starts ; and his lips quivered when he stopped 
 talkin'. ' Look at my child !' he said. ' She is almost dead — 
 daily pining away before my eyes — and all from her horror 
 of Ferdinand. Wretch that I am! to have made such en- 
 gagements for her before she was out of her cradle. This 
 affiancing of infants I find to be an unnatural proceedin'. And 
 still it might all have turned out well enough, but for the 
 sensitiveness of Viola's nater, and the brutality of Ferdinand's. 
 But oh, my God ! to think that the man should turn out' a 
 murderer ! the one I had loved and intended for my son. 
 Whether Ambrose was insane or not, is no longer of import- 
 ance to the great question. I have decided that. He shall 
 never wed my sweet child. I will sacrifice every thing to 
 save her from him — life, or even what the world calls honor. 
 But should I perish, oh, God! what will become of her?' 
 
 " I did what I could," continued Johnson, " to comfort Don 
 
THE FATHER AND SON. 347 
 
 Manuel, and assured him that so long as I remained alive, the 
 Lady Viola should not lack an arm to defend her : and that I 
 thought there was another still, worth a dozen of me, who 
 would rejoice to place himself by her side, and take his 
 chances against Don Ferdinand, or any body else that might 
 offer. He thanked me, and taking me by the hand, very 
 solemnly, as though it was his last act, committed his daughter 
 to my care. ' A black cloud is over me,' said he, ' which I 
 find it impossible to dispel. I fear me this inhospitable wild, 
 even this mountain, is destined to furnish me with my last 
 place of rest — that here the career of Don Manuel Torrillo is 
 to end. For myself I care not. I am too much of a phil- 
 osopher, and, I hope, Christian, to mourn over a few short 
 days at the latter end of life. But Viola is young. The 
 world is all before her yet, untasted. It is hard for her to 
 die. But better thus, even, than a heart-broken wife, con- 
 sumin' by inches. .Kind Father in Heaven, protect her !' 
 
 " I pitied Don Manuel from the bottom of my heart," con- 
 tinued the old man, " and tried my best to drive away the 
 gloomy apprehensions which had got possession of his mind. 
 I told him to trust in Heaven, and to hope. I told him the 
 decision he had come to with respect to the Lady Viola and 
 Don Ferdinand was, without doubt, correct : for, accordin' to 
 my notion of things, Charles, the agreement is one which he 
 hasn't the natral right to fulfill. If it's sinful to break a con- 
 tract, it's more sinful still to violate the born rights of a child, 
 and compel her ag'in nater and reason to marry a man she 
 hates. This I told him ; and advised him still to temporize 
 with the chevalier a little longer, if possible, hopin' that some 
 thing might turn up, meanwhile, in our favor. It was then he 
 gave me liberty to consult with you, my dear boy ; and bade 
 me say to you, that your help would be very acceptable in his 
 present strait ; and that, with Heaven's blessing, Viola should 
 be your reward." 
 
AN ADOPTION. INDIAN FESTIVITIES, AN ABORIGINAL SFPPEB AND BALL. 
 COXCOMBS AND COQUETTES. THE WAE PAETY. 
 
 " Lo, the poor Indian I" 
 
 THE sun was already low in the west, when Johnson and 
 Warwick emerged from the lodge. On gaining the air, 
 almost the first object that met their eyes was Alwyn, sitting 
 apart on a log, and taking no note of what was passing around 
 him. As they approached, he looked up sadly, and Warwick 
 perceived traces of tears on his face. 
 
 " I had not forgotten you, Alwyn," said Warwick, kindly ; 
 " and I must now thank you for all you have done in saving 
 my life this day. But what is the matter, boy ?" 
 
 " I know not," returned the youth. 
 
 " Why then do you weep, when I am full of joy ? My life 
 is given back to me, Alwyn ; and you have been an important 
 instrument in saving it. Had I been burned, you would have 
 wept then ; would you not ?" 
 
 " I would have been burned too," said the youth. 
 
 " My brother !" said Warwick, taking his hand ; " you are 
 worthy of all my love. How strong has been your affection 
 for me, manifested in a hundred different ways ! But, Alwyn, 
 I have found my father, whom I have not seen since I was a 
 little slip, not much higher than your knee. Do you not re- 
 joice with me ?" 
 
 " The Great Spirit, who sees here," said Alwyn, laying his 
 hand on his breast, " alone knows how sincerely. Rolling- 
 
THE WAB PARTY. 349 
 
 bow, too, was a chief; but where is he? Gone !" continued 
 the youth, pointing to the sky ; " but the White Eagle has 
 come back." 
 
 Warwick was deeply moved. 
 
 " The White Eagle shall be your father also," said he ; 
 " and I will be your elder brother. We will never forsake 
 you, Alwyn. You shall remain with us always, if you wish ; 
 and all I have I will share with you." 
 
 " It shall be so," said Johnson, elevating himself with a 
 feeling of paternal pride. " Rise up, my brave boy !" 
 
 Alwyn arose, and the old man placed his hand on the youtl^Js 
 head. 
 
 " Henceforth," said he, solemnly, " thou art my son — the 
 same in all respects as though begotten of my body. And God 
 ratify and bless the adoption ; and thee, too, Alwyn !" 
 
 A flush of sunshine came over the fa?e of the young 
 Indian. He took the White Eagle's hand reverently in his 
 and kissed it. Then embracing Warwick with a more fa- 
 miliar joy, the three took their way toward the center of the 
 village. 
 
 " I must show my two boys to my friends," said Johnson, 
 as he walked with the pride and dignity of a father between 
 them. " But, Warwick, the ancient butternut, it seems to me, 
 wears now a much pleasanter Jook than it did a few hours 
 ago." 
 
 Indeed, around the same tree which had so lately witnessed 
 the jeopardy of Warwick and the death of Wild Cat, prep- 
 arations had already been made for a grand feast in honor 
 of the White Eagle. The chiefs and the warriors, with the 
 entire population of the place, were there assembled, and re- 
 ceived the old man with every token of honor and respect. 
 Like attentions were extended to him who had so nearly been 
 their victim, against whom they no longer seemed to enter- 
 tain a shadow of ill-will ; and also to the young Indian, Al- 
 
350 CAMP FIRES OF TEE BED MER. 
 
 wyn, as soon as they became aware that the White Eagle had 
 adopted him. 
 
 The festivities which succeeded were of a wild and strik- 
 ing character. The viands, though boasting no variety to 
 compare with the saloons of the Irving or Astor, were abund- 
 ant, and prepared with a commendable attention to neatness. 
 Venison, fish, the abundant produce of the Susquehanna, not 
 omitting the delicious shad, then plenty in its upper waters ; 
 bear's meat, and the national dish, the succotash, with maize 
 or corn cakes, baked on the coals, formed the principal staples 
 of the feast. To these may be added, from the catalogue of 
 minor dishes, roasted corn, beans, squashes, apples, black- 
 berries, and other wild fruits of the season. These were 
 served in vessels of native manufacture, made of burned clay, 
 or curiously fashioned from the knotty excrescences of trees. 
 The guests, as a mark of honor, and also to show that the Six 
 Nations were not ignorant of European customs, were fur- 
 nished with English knives ; and wooden spoons, carved out 
 of a species of the box, and pronged sticks, to answer in place 
 of that indispensable appendage to civilization, called a fork. 
 The savages, however, dispensed with this latter luxury, 
 greatly preferring those ancient instruments, the fingers, for 
 the transfer of their food. This they bolted with great dex- 
 terity, and devoured ravenously, sundering the tough portions, 
 meanwhile, with that knife of all work which the Indian has 
 ever at hand, suspended in a leather case by his side. 
 
 The dishes were arranged in a circle on the ground, and 
 around them, facing to a common center, sat the company on 
 bear-skins and rush-mats. There was perhaps in this primitive 
 display, the table, the furniture, or the fare, or even in the 
 picturesque assembly of the sons of the forest, with their 
 women and children, crouched on the ground, little to attract 
 the admiration of an epicure ; and still the viands were not 
 unsavory ;. while the hospitality with which they were prof- 
 
THE WAR PARTY. 351 
 
 fered, and the high good feeling which reigned around the 
 board, were an ample compensation to a hungry man for the 
 absence of porcelain or silver, and Parisian cookery. 
 
 As day was rushing beneath the western hills, and in pity 
 to the world she was leaving, threw some of her rays behind, 
 flooding the sky with rose, with orange, and with purple light, 
 the savage feast was brought to a close, and the ground was 
 cleared for the dancers. At the tap of a 'drum, twenty bon- 
 fires, and a multitude of torches elevated on poles, and at- 
 tached to the branches of the wide-spreading butternut, burst 
 into a blaze, and lighted up this natural ball-room as brilliantly 
 as the thousand burners illuminate the artificial magnificence 
 of Metropolitan Hall. The warriors, the wives, the young 
 men and maidens, now appeared on the scene in all their 
 glory. The strong light showed their fine persons, their 
 graceful movements, and their wild, aboriginal bedeckments 
 to the best advantage : and a scene of rough revelry, of bois- 
 terous enjoyment ensued, which defies description. 
 
 The dress of the Indian females was various. Already 
 were the fashions of the whites, especially as to material, 
 making serious inroads upon them. Some there were, how- 
 ever, who pertinaciously resisted innovation, and still adhered 
 substantially to the costume of their fathers. These wore a 
 sort of deer-skin petticoat, the choicest made of the skin of 
 the doe, white, and worked to the softness of velvet, which 
 extended from the throat to the knees. It was without 
 sleeves, set close af the waist, and was confined on the bosom 
 with brooches ; while the bust and skirt were heavily em- 
 broidered with stained porcupine quills and bead-work. The 
 legs were encased in a similar leather, made to fit close, with 
 wide, projecting hems or edgings, up and down the outside, 
 and was also richly ornamented. On the feet were the beau- 
 tifully wrought moccasins, which are too well known to need 
 description. On the border of the skirt, the hems of the 
 
352 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN". 
 
 leggings, and the flaps of the moccasins, were hanging small 
 tin and silver pendents, which, as the wearer moved about in 
 the dance, gave out a sound like that of little bells. The 
 arms were circled with bracelets of silver or brass. The 
 long, jetty hair was confined with hoops of silver or ribbons 
 of wampum ; and from both ears and nose hung jewels of 
 sea shells or silver. A round spot of some brilliant color, 
 the size of a large rose-leaf, occupied the center of the 
 forehead: and thus the costume of the Indian damsel was 
 complete. 
 
 Some indeed there were, light-hearted maidens, fond of 
 show and foreign gauds, who preferred the calicoes and blue 
 and crimson broadcloths of the English to the leather robes 
 of their country. With these the particolored cotton petticoat 
 and red or blue leggings took the place of the native article. 
 Rut such derelictions were by no means countenanced by the 
 staid fathers and mothers of the tribes ; and those who in- 
 dulged in them were frequently subjected to the rebukes of 
 their elders, and were regarded as frivolous, unpromising 
 maidens, who had departed from the simplicity of their 
 people. 
 
 The costume of the males was of a less showy and more 
 imposing kind, as befitted them. They were naked to the 
 waist, round which was girded with a belt a blanket of skins 
 or cloth, calculated, when comfort required, to be drawn over 
 the shoulders. The white woolen robe, known to commerce 
 by the name of the Indian blanket, was already common 
 among them : its cheapness, and superiority, in many respects,- 
 over the skins of the deer, bear, and moose having rendered 
 its introduction rapid. From the waist hung a garment which 
 extended in a front and rear flap nearly to the knees. Leg- 
 gings and moccasins, similar to those already mentioned, but 
 plainer in workmanship and more substantial in material, 
 completed the attire proper of the Indian. Not so, however, 
 
TEOE WAR PARTY. 353 
 
 with the ornamental part of his toilet. Ordinarily he wore 
 his hair, which was as black as the wing of a raven, and 
 never curled, long, and braided and coiled on the top or back 
 of the head. It was there confined with a string or circlet 
 of metal. From his ears and nose hung pendents : but the 
 impressive characteristic in the appearance of the American 
 Indian, and that on which he most prided himself, was the 
 manner in which he was colored. Without a due attention 
 to his person in this particular, he would not go on a war- 
 party or attend a fete ; and accordingly this sort of embel- 
 lishment became with him a part of the serious business of 
 his life. 
 
 The colors originally found with the natives were .the 
 products of plants and some few earths. After their acquaint- 
 ance with the whites, some of our ordinary paints, such as 
 ochre, vermilion, and red lead, were substituted. The hues 
 must needs be brilliant, and then the Indian was satisfied. 
 He laid them on thickly, in spots and stripes, over his face 
 and the upper part of his body, apparently without much 
 order, but certainly not without effect. When he had thus 
 completed his toilet, to a civilized eye he was, perhaps, the 
 most frightful object in nature. But among the savages them- 
 selves, and especially the softer sex, this kind of decoration 
 was considered vastly becoming : and during the festivities 
 we are describing, the dark damsels criticised with great free- 
 dom and relish, the taste and skill exhibited by the different 
 braves in this sort of embellishment. 
 
 But among the males, as with the females, there were 
 those who differed materially in their appearance from the 
 rest. These were the coxcombs ; and where is the nation 
 or people or tribe among whom they are not to be found? 
 The Indian coxcomb, as in civilized countries,-gratified his 
 passion for notoriety and display by carrying existing fash- 
 ions to an extreme, by the introduction of new ones, and by 
 
HM camp F1RE3 OF THE RED 21EM. 
 
 taking on himself airs of effeminate delicacy or offensive 
 superiority. He wore larger pendents and brooches than his 
 fellows. He applied the paint in broader stripes, and carried 
 them a couple of inches lower on his body, than strict propri- 
 ety, according to the notions of his people, would warrant. 
 He shaved his head, all but a small tuft on the crown, which 
 he bound up, and taught to sustain itself erect, and used as a 
 support to a multitude of gaudy feathers, plucked from all the 
 birds of the forest. He cut his ears into strings, in the same 
 manner that a round bit of leather may be cut into a continu- 
 ous thong : and when thus prepared, the organ was made to 
 assume the form of a hoop, wound with brass or silver wire, 
 and hung with tinsel and jewels, until it depended in an ob- 
 long circle on the shoulder. 
 
 The dances were of a very anomalous character. They 
 were performed to the music of rude drums, beaten with a 
 single stick, and supported by the voices of the dancers. Old 
 and young, male and feniale, partook with equal spirit ; but 
 the two sexes did not mingle. The ball was opened by the 
 males, who occupied the capacious smooth clayed floor for a 
 time, and then gave place to the females : and thus they 
 alternated through the evening. Johnson led off in the first 
 set, accompanied by the venerable Oquago, and the principal 
 chiefs : and at a later period, Warwick himself found it 
 prudent to unite in the exercise, and to hop, leap, and sing as 
 vigorously as the rest. 
 
 The evolutions consisted of a variety of rapid lively move- 
 ments, sometimes assuming the shape of a regular figure ; 
 but more generally that of a mere helter-skelter commingling, 
 and an expert management of the person, as they skipped and 
 jumped and threaded their seemingly inextricable way among 
 each other, over the dancing-ground. Occasionally, how- 
 ever, the complement on the floor would divide into two par- 
 ties ; and, taking their stations at opposite sides, as the drums 
 
THE WAR PARTY. 355 
 
 struck up, would move forward diagonally to the right, a cer- 
 tain number of steps, and then to the left, in the same man- 
 ner ; until the two divisions, coming together, would mingle 
 and pass entirely through each other : when, turning, they 
 would retrace their steps in the same zig-zag fashion to their 
 first positions. Large numbers were engaged in this man- 
 ner at once ; they moved actively and quick ; and as they 
 met, it seemed quite impossible but that a scene of tangled 
 confusion should ensue; still no two came in contact; and 
 they emerged from their involved labyrinth in perfect order. 
 All the dances were performed with the utmost exactness to 
 time. 
 
 Notwithstanding some unquiet thoughts preying on his 
 mind, Warwick could not but become interested in this wild 
 revel. The magnificent ball-room ; its floor the earth, and its 
 ceiling the firmament set with stars ; between, a hanging of 
 green leaves, with torches and blazing bonfires for lamps ; the 
 tall, lithe Indians, in their showy trappings, treading the ground 
 , with the ease and dignity of monarchs ; the native women, 
 with fine forms and features, and black flashing eyes, tripping 
 vigorously, but not ungracefully, through the mazes of the 
 dance ; the music of the drums and the rich, mellow voices of 
 the singers, as they rose high on the wind or sunk away in 
 soft cadences, formed indeed a picture likely to leave its im- 
 pression on the mental tablet forever. Outside the dancers 
 sat the chiefs and elders of the people, their brows unbent, 
 their prerogatives for the time forgotten, telling stories to their 
 grandchildren, of the war and the hunt, and the loves of their 
 youth. The laugh, the joke, the song, were unrestrained 
 and no one witnessing the life and freedom and chatter of this 
 festival would have said thereafter that the Indian is neces- 
 sarily taciturn and grave. 
 
 As the interest in the {k,i^ began a little to flag, Michael 
 Johnson, who rarely lost sight of the proper moment for 
 
356 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 action, drew several of the chiefs together, and unfolded to 
 them his wishes. He informed them of the present posture 
 of affairs at the Spanish camp ; of the defection of Don Fer- 
 dmand, and its probable consequences to himself, and the son 
 they had that day given to his arms. He showed them that 
 in the success of the plot of the chevalier they themselves 
 had something to fear, inasmuch as the lawlessness of his 
 character was a very safe warrant for further outrages upon 
 them at his hands. On the other side, he pledged himself 
 that if the authority of Don Manuel should be sustained, the 
 Spanish party should at once peacefully evacuate the Indian 
 country. He asked for a body of Indian warriors, sufficient 
 to overawe the designs of Don Ferdinand, or to crush them, in 
 case of resistance. 
 
 The proposition of the White Eagle was variously re- 
 ceived. Some remained sedately silent ; others suggested 
 that it might be well to leave their enemies to cut each other's 
 throats, if the White Eagle and his son could be prevailed on 
 not to involve themselves in the catastrophe. But there were 
 others still, and among them were the Oquago and the Mo- 
 hawk Wisset, who perceived, in addition to their desiie to 
 oblige an old friend, a sound policy for themselves in comply- 
 ing with the request. They were anxious to rid the Con- 
 federacy of their troublesomje visitors, and they saw no cheaper 
 or more expeditious way of accomplishing it than the one 
 proposed. 
 
 But it is unnecessary to pursue the negotiation further. 
 Suffice it that it was successful. The Oquago, by an alarm 
 beat on the drums, arrested the feet of the dancers. The 
 Mohawk explained the object of the interruption, and called 
 for volunteers, whom he offered to lead in person against 
 the Spanish camp. The proposal was received with shouts 
 of satisfaction, and ratified by acclamation, and the festivities 
 of the night were brought to a close with the terrible war- 
 
THE WAR PARTY. ' 357 
 
 dance. The morn was just breaking, when Michael Johnson, 
 Warwick, and the Mohawk,- at the head of a stout body of 
 warriors, comprising the effective force present on the oc- 
 casion, marched out of the Oquago village, and turned south 
 down the valley of the Susquehanna. 
 
INDIAN LOVE OF COUNTRY. THE MOHAWK. THB MARCH. ; 
 
 " A thousand years we thus have lived the monarchs of the -wild, 
 The sun and all the orbs of night have circled o'er and smiled ; 
 And ever from those silent lights the Spirit-Eye so good, 
 Keeps watch of his red children through the branches of the wood." 
 
 THE course of the war-party lay along the rich and umbra- 
 geous shore of the Susquehanna, whose banks never want 
 for foliage and flowers, or scenery for variety and beauty. To 
 the Indian, every foot of the ground was sacred — each vale, 
 and cliff, and hill was inseparably interwoven in his recollec- 
 tion with some legend, near or remote, in which he or his 
 fathers had been actors. There a pile of stones marked the 
 spot where the spoils of some memorable hunt and victory 
 over the beasts of the forest had been gathered ; there a mound 
 covered the bones of his foes, and commemorated an ambus- 
 cade into which an invading enemy, many centuries ago, had 
 been cunningly led, only to perish ; there another mound point- 
 ed out the resting-place of a famous chief and warrior, who 
 had died in defense of his country ; and there a red pole on a 
 beetling bluff designated the place where a young brave had 
 rescued his bride from the fangs of a wolf, conquered the pow- 
 erful animal by strength of muscle alone, bound him, and 
 plunged him off into the blue waters of the river below. The 
 burying-places were frequent — where the red men, in a sitting 
 posture, with faces turned toward the east, and pipe, and bow^ 
 and arrows, and a handful of parched corn, as a first provision 
 when they should reach the hunting-grounds of the Spiiit- 
 
TSE MAROm 359 
 
 land, had for ages been committed to their native dust. The 
 fields where they raised their corn, and the little pits by the 
 side of the winding path where they buried it in winter, and 
 sparse orchards of the apple, here and there, also added to the 
 variety and picturesqueness of the scene, otherwise one of 
 primeval hills, and vales, and water. 
 
 And why should not the Indian love his father-land ? Surely 
 it was beautiful — beautiful as the vale of Shiraz, beautiful as 
 the Switzer's mountain home, beautiful as the fairy country 
 from which the Moors of Spain were so barbarously expelled. 
 The touching laments of the Moors, though centuries have 
 since passed, are still held in warm remembrance by the civ- 
 ilized world. When the exiled Pole steals home through 
 many dangers, to delight his eyes once more with a sight of 
 the Vistula, and to stand for a brief hour by the graves of his 
 fathers, we give him all our sympathy. This is right. The 
 Indian, also, has feelings and attachments like other men ; and 
 the whole strength of his passionate nature centers in his love 
 for his native land and reverence for the burial-places of his 
 dead. From the valley of the Susquehanna, red with the 
 memory of Wyoming, the Indians have long since been ex- 
 pelled, with all the terrors of fire, and sword, and rapine. For 
 many years^ no red man dared set his foot on its soil. But 
 more recently, as the memory of the past has faded, an occa- 
 sional Indian, venerable with age, has been seen, stealing like 
 a shadow along the ancient paths of that river, resting by the 
 graves and mounds ; or like a ghost, at eve or early morn, 
 standing on some eminence, whence scenery, not easily to be 
 excelled, of fringed and winding shore, meadow and mountain, 
 which had been the Lome of his childhood, might once again 
 be viewed, to cheer his heart against his final departure to the 
 land of shades. 
 
 " Every foot of this ground is as familiar to me as the farm 
 on which I was bom," remarked the veteran Johnson to hU 
 
360 CAMP FIRES OF TSE RED MEN. 
 
 son, as the party, ranged in single file, wound along the bank 
 of the river. " I've already pointed (iut to you the grove of 
 alders where, when you was my little Paul, and scarcely, 
 higher than my knee, you were last seen with Wild Cat be- 
 fore he carried you off. Yonder, around that p'int, is the spot 
 where we had the difficulty about the traps, and John under- 
 took to shoot me." 
 
 Warwick regarded the localities with interest. Already 
 the country and its hills were assuming a familiar shape to his 
 mind, like the frame-work of a dream which one endeavors to 
 recall ; and as he gazed and gazed, dim images of the past 
 crowded his recollection, and he even had the satisfaction of 
 recognizing certain points — a rock, a spring, a tree — and of 
 connecting them in his memory with some little incidents of 
 his boyhood. How sad and delightful were these recogni- 
 tions ! He felt as though he could fall upon the earth and 
 kiss those places that had known him when a child. 
 
 That in the lithe and brawny Mohawk chief, who marched 
 before him at the head of his band, like a proper sovereign of 
 the woods, he was to acknowledge the Indian youth who had 
 been the playmate of his infancy, was to Warwick still more 
 difficult. He gazed into his brown and manly face in vain, 
 until the Mohawk unbent the sternness of his brow and smiled ; 
 when Warwick recognized the smile, for through it shone the 
 heart. It came like a beam of sunlight, connecting the boy 
 with the man, and Warwick knew him. The same had been 
 the case with his recollection of his father. As he heard him 
 talk and looked him in the face, feature after feature, motion 
 and expression, gradually were recalled, until he came to 
 realize the truth ; and the distant past, which had so long lain 
 in shadow, was restored again and blended with the present. 
 
 Aside from his fine person and noble bearing, the Mohawk 
 spoke English fluently. Through the agency of missionaries, 
 who were already prosecuting their labors, particularly in the 
 
THE MARCS. 361 
 
 eastern portions of the Confederacy, he had received a respec- 
 table education, and was familiar with the whites, their habits, 
 and their growing power. That he should view their increas- 
 ing strength and constant encroachments with uneasiness and 
 alarm was but natural ; and during a halt of the morning at a 
 spring, he took Warwick aside and expressed his apprehen- 
 sions in warm and glowing terms. 
 
 " What is to become of our nation," said he, " with the 
 French pressing us on one side and the English on the other ? 
 We are fiot unmindful of our treaties, we are not unfaithful to 
 our great Father across the water ; we desire peace that we 
 may plant our corn in safety and take care of our women and 
 children ; but the torrents that pour down opposite mountains 
 meet in the valley between, and carry a double destruction 
 over the plains. So it is with us, encroached on and threat- 
 ened on both sides as we are." 
 
 Warwick endeavored to allay the chief's uneasiness. He 
 assured him of the paternal disposition of England, and the 
 kind intentions of the Colonies, with respect to the Six Nations ; 
 and advised him, as in duty bound, and as he believed to be 
 right and best, to repel the advances of the French in what- 
 ever specious form they might come, and rely for protection 
 and safety on the justice and power of Great Britain. 
 
 " Protection !" echoed the proud savage. " The Nations 
 will protect themselves, or die in defense of their country and 
 the graves of their fathers. Still we may negotiate to peace- 
 ably preserve our rights. But our rivers are becoming dry — 
 the fish like not the white man — and the moose and the deer 
 flee before him toward the great river of the setting sun. Our 
 hunting-grounds are becoming deserted, and the brave must 
 turn himself into a squaw, and plant corn, to supply his little 
 ones with bread !" 
 
 The close of this sentence was uttered with a profound and 
 indignant contempt. The eyes of the chief flashed, the veins 
 
 16 
 
362 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 on his forehead and temples swelled full, and he swung his 
 arms through the air with an energy which bore witness to 
 the intensity of his feeling and the strength of his determina- 
 tion. Warwick felt the force of his position, and knew not 
 well what reply to make. Suddenly the eyes of the savage 
 became fixed, wide open as they were, his face turned toward 
 the clouds, and extending his hands he became rigid and still 
 as a statue. Soon his lips moved and he spoke : 
 
 " Night fleeth before the day. The snow melts before the 
 rising sun and disappears. The stars are bright, the moon is 
 brighter, but what are they in the presence of the morning ? 
 rhey become shadows and are lost. The Red Men are like 
 the stars and the moon — like the snow and the night. The 
 mightier come and they fade away. Like the ice of winter 
 they soften into rills and are carried to the sea. They can 
 not stand before the thunder and the flame, the cannon-ball 
 and the long knife, the axe and the plow. Their hunting- 
 grounds turn to fenced fields, the deer flee away, and their 
 women and their little ones are without food. Their wigwams 
 change to white houses, their castles and places of council to 
 the mill and the tall house with the bell, to call down the Great 
 Spirit from the cloud. So the Great Father hath determined 
 to take the Red Men to himself — to remove them to a better 
 land — where game is plenty and the white men can not come. 
 
 " Oh, mountains of the bright and yellow sun, farewell ! 
 Pines that wave upon the hills, and point the Red Man to the 
 Spirit-land ; maples and cedars that whisper in the valleys 
 and sing the little ones to sleep ; birds that teach us how to 
 love ; beasts that inspire our braves with cunning valor ; oh, 
 Long and Crooked River ! ye lakes of shining water, and all 
 the streams that bring the flowers in the dawn of spring; 
 graves of our sires, our country and its glory, farewell ! No 
 longer is the Mohawk the terror of the world ; the voice of 
 the Oneidas, the Onondagas, Cayugas, and Senecas is still ; 
 
THE MARCH,, 363 
 
 the war-path is deserted ; the hunt has ceased ; and the war- 
 cry of the Nations that made the pale ones tremble, that sound- 
 ed from the Great Salt Lake, that lies under the north star, to 
 the Gulf Sea, that simmers in the sun, shall be heard no 
 more ! The Red Man goes to a better land !" 
 
 The Mohawk ceased speaking. A sad smile stole over his 
 features and his extended arms fell. But ere the close of his 
 rhapsody he had had another auditor besides Warwick. His 
 wife, bearing his two children — the youngest a babe, bound to 
 a board with soft and richly ornamented leather, so that every 
 limb was strait, and nothing to be seen but its round, placid 
 face and starry eyes, and swung to her forehead by a glitter- 
 ing belt of wampum and resting on her back ; and the other a 
 half-naked boy, perfect in form as a Psyche, which she car- 
 ried in her arms — had followed him to take another farewell ; 
 and now, resting on one knee before him, held up the pledges 
 of their love, and looked with a troubled countenance into his 
 face. 
 
 The sight was touching and beautiful ; for the Indian wife, 
 though brown, was light for her race, and her limbs and fea- 
 tures as gracefully molded as an antelope's ; while her long 
 shining hair, black as night, hung loose and divided upon her 
 shoulders, and in the midst of it nestled her child. 
 
 " Omalah," said the chief, well pleased, " hast brought my 
 boys for another good-bye ? There, my brave ones !" contin- 
 ued he, kissing them both and taking the eldest in his arms ; 
 " and that for thee, Omalah," putting his hand kindly upon her 
 slioulder and pressing his lips to her forehead. " Thine be 
 it to teach our little rnies to become fleet as the deer and soar- 
 ing as the eagle, brave and terrible to our enemies as the hun- 
 gry wolf, and gentle as thyself." 
 
 Another softer word of parting, as Warwick moved away, 
 and the chief resumed his position at the head of his men, and 
 gave orders to renew the march. Whether he was conscious 
 
'364 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 of his prophetic utterances of a few moments before could not 
 be known. Certainly, now, he was every inch the king, with 
 the attitude and look of one fully determined to vindicate his 
 rights, from whatever quarter threatened. Warwick gazed on 
 him with a feeling of awe, and a painful sense of the probable 
 fulfillment of the prophecy took possession of his mind. He 
 looked ahead through the shadowy vista of coming years, and 
 seemed to see the Confederacy of the Six Nations, now the 
 proudest and most powerful people of all the aboriginal tribes 
 of the New World, fading away, perishing year by year and 
 day by day, as iron is consumed by rust, or the trees of the 
 mountain by fire. The thought made him sad ; and sadly 
 have the foreboding and the prophecy since been fulfilled. 
 
 But his own cares — the pressing strait of Don Manuel and 
 his daughter — soon resumed their sway over his mind and 
 heart, and like ourselves and our government, in the century 
 which has succeeded, he forgot, or adjourned to a more con- 
 venient season, his momentary solicitude for the future of the 
 Indian ; though, certainly, his regard for the noble Mohawk, 
 for Alwyn, and others of his friends of the wigwam and the 
 woods, was deep and abiding. He had seen enough of them — 
 his associations with them in infancy, and again in manhood, 
 had been of a nature sufficiently close to enable him to under- 
 stand them, both as to their evil and their good. If he had 
 suffered at the hands of some, he had been befriended by 
 others ; treated with a confiding generosity and trust, which 
 had opened the inner recesses of the Indian character to his 
 inspection, and his own best aff'ections and warmest gratitude 
 toward them in return. To him there could be no doubt that 
 the Indian possessed a heart, like other men ; which only 
 needed to be sought in order to be found, and that his good 
 faith, if not abused, might well be trusted. 
 
 Smitten by our vices as with a plague, and taking not read- 
 ily to our virtues, the native people of the country have dwin- 
 
THE MAROH. S65r 
 
 died before us and perished, as though we had been a hoar 
 frost or fire falling on them from the clouds. Our triumphs in 
 civilization, art, learning, and government have been but the 
 progressive records of their downfall and extinction. In 
 scarcely a portion of the vast territory which yields allegiance 
 to our flag, is there any ritality remaining to the Indian tribes, 
 except in those central parts which our growth, in its rapid 
 and exterminating foray, has not as yet reached. The mighty 
 wave of subjugation, which commenced its swell on the shore 
 of the Atlantic, three centuries ago, is soon to be met by an- 
 other from the Pacific ; and those central tribes which have 
 hitherto mostly escaped — the Camanche, that Arab of the 
 West, the Pawnee, the Sioux, and the Blackfoot ; together 
 with those skeletons of tribes which our cruel and mistaken 
 policy has exiled from their ancient homes, and kept hoisting 
 from point to point, as they were found still in the way — will 
 share the fate of the rest. A hundred years more, and the 
 Indian name is likely to be preserved only in the story of his 
 Wrongs, unless a change, radical and immediate, is introduced 
 :n our dealings with this persecuted race. 
 
 What this change should be is the province of the states- 
 man, rather than the romancer, to determine ; and yet some 
 facts lie so near the surface of the question as to be within the 
 reach of the most superficial observer. The Indian character 
 is peculiar. Indian endurance has passed into a proverb, aqd 
 yet the Indian is frail, and exhibits, as the whole history of 
 the settlement of the New World by the whites proves, but 
 little tenacity of life. His physical frame is well enough — 
 indeed, it is a model for a sculptor — and under proper con- 
 ditions bears fatigue, exposure, hunger and thirst which would 
 prostrate any one else, except, perhaps, an Arab of the desert, 
 and continues to do so to old age. But these conditions imply 
 freedom — freedom of action and freedom of thought. He was 
 never intended for a slave. Like the wild horse of the prairie, 
 
366 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEK 
 
 he can not bear restraint, and if hampered by the lasso, curb- 
 ed down by the bit, and driven from the fields and familiar 
 haunts of his youth, and the legendary associations of his sires, 
 he dies. His body can not readily be broken, but when con- 
 quered, it is easy to break his spirit and his heart. 
 
 This, I apprehend, furnishes the true reason of the decay 
 of the Indian race. Furthermore, it is said that the Indian 
 can not be tamed. This is not so. Naturally he is attached 
 to the habits of his life, which were the habits of his fathers, 
 and his fathers' fathers before him — to hunt and fish, and roam 
 from valley to valley, from river to river, and from lake to 
 lake. The policy of the whites has been to imbrute him with 
 rum — the terrible fire-water, whose burning never goes out — 
 to bargain and rob him of his lands, and then pension him off 
 and remove him out of the way, like some worthless animal 
 whose presence was no longer pleasant to the eye. If, instead 
 of this, the natives of the country had, from the first, been so- 
 licited to become citizens, and merge themselves in the Repub- 
 lic, and if, as they saw themselves hedged in by the white 
 settlements, and their hunting-grounds restricted and becom- 
 ing unproductive, the arts of civilization had been properly 
 commended to their attention, who will take it upon him to 
 decide that the experiment would have failed — that, influenced 
 by kindness and the necessities of their condition, their habits 
 anight not gradually have been changed — and that, instead of 
 graves and monuments, minute and worthless remnants of 
 tribes, scattered here and there, or forcibly removed to the 
 Indian Territory west of the Mississippi, from which our gov- 
 ernment, in pursuance of its usual policy, is again endeavoring 
 to expel them to a still more western home, destined to be 
 equally temporary, we might not now have been able to show, 
 in New York, Pennsylvania, New England, and other States, 
 whole townships and counties of our native population trans- 
 formed into thriving and valuable members of the state 1 
 
THE MAROH. 367 
 
 This experiment — the only reasonable and just one ever 
 within our reach, after assuming that the country was to be 
 conquered and possessed — is still to be tried. We throw our 
 doors wide open to the world, and offer citizenship freely to 
 all. Even the Hindoo and the Chinaman are not excluded. 
 Why then should we exclude the Indian, either legally or vir- 
 tually, who, both in body and mind, is greatly the superior of 
 the Asiatic tribes, and of many of those from the different 
 states of Europe who avail themselves of our liberality and 
 domicile with us ? Why should we not rather, especially when 
 we consider the debt we owe the native lords of the New 
 World, who have given a virgin continent into our hands, with 
 all its wealth of beauty and resource, invite them to share it 
 and its honors with us ? To remove them from our path — ^to 
 dispossess them of their soil, that we may appropriate it to 
 ourselves — we do not hesitate even to resort to compulsion. 
 If force be to be used at all, would it not be juster and better 
 to resort to it in imposing on them the modes of civilized life, 
 and in building them up into intelligent communities among 
 us where they are ? In the name of righteousness and mercy, 
 let no more of the Red Men be exiled from the homes of their 
 fathers ! In the name of decency and right, let us extend free 
 brotherhood and citizenship to the noble race from whom we 
 have wrested this goodly land ! Instead of warring with them 
 — making a foolish display of the might of a great nation, by 
 carrying armies and slaughter among these poor people, when- 
 ever, from real or fancied injuries, their wounded pride impels 
 them to resent our encroachments — let us exhaust all the arts 
 of peace and kindness, and expend our millions, with a pa- 
 tience and perseverance which no obstacles can tire, in the 
 just endeavor to enlighten and preserve them. Our honor and 
 dignity as a Christian nation demand this, humanity and the 
 peace of our own minds require this change of policy at our 
 hands. 
 
368 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 In all that portion of this Indian continent, covered by the 
 old United States — indeed, on to the Mississippi, it is already 
 too late to do any thing but our duty. Some Southern tribes, 
 not wholly wasted, and a few scattered handfuls at the North, 
 will alone, of all the original native population, tax our bounty 
 or our care. But west of the Mississippi, in the great basin 
 of the Missouri, and up and down the slopes of the Rocky 
 Mountains, and a'ong the shores of the Pacific, in California 
 and Oregon, there are numerous native tribes, which are now 
 beginning for the first to feel our heavy hand upon them. 
 Toward them it is not too late to be forbearing and just. It 
 is not too late to preserve them from the fate of their brethren 
 — to nourish their hopes and flagging vitality into life again — 
 and to make of them, in the end, good citizens of the Repub- 
 lic. But this can not be accomplished with the bayonet and 
 revolver. It can not be achieved by tearing them from their 
 homes, by breaking their spirit and their pride, by subduing 
 them, or by corrupting and gradually wasting them away. It 
 can only be accomplished by a wise and resolute persistency, 
 to return no blow for blow, but, on the contrary, to protect and 
 do them good, and build them up in intelligence and strength. 
 No people are so low, no tribe is so debased, as to remain for- 
 ever callous to the hearty efforts of those who would labor for 
 their good ; and the Indian, above all others, is blessed with 
 a keen eye, and the ability to recognize his friends. 
 
THE SCOUT. PLAN OP THE ATTACK. 
 
 •' O'er deep morass and hill and tangled brake 
 The faithful runner kept his onward way, 
 Though night and desert howls conspired to make 
 His path a path of terror, where no ray 
 From moon or star reminded him of day." 
 
 MEANWHILE Alwyn, like the flying deer, or rather the 
 pursuing hound, was coursing over the hills. At the first 
 moment after the expedition had been determined, he had 
 started on a scout in the direction of the Spanish camp. Well 
 acquainted with the ground, and encumbered with no arms 
 heavier than his hatchet, and no clothes more tightly fitting 
 than his blanket, which, slung across his left shoulder and 
 passing under his right arm, was made fast around the waist 
 by a belt, he forsook the curves of the river and the beaten 
 foot-path that run along its border, and pushing into the high- 
 lands, stopped not, and turned not aside, for ravine or hill, but 
 strait as the flight of an arrow, in an easy but rapid run or In- 
 dian lope, he threaded the blind trail which none but an Indian 
 could see, even by daylight, that led by the shortest distance 
 to the southern slope of the Bend Mountain. 
 
 Precisely what were the thoughts of the runner as he pressed 
 through the dark forest alone, would be curious to inquire. 
 To a mere observer, his personal interest in the aflfair which 
 lent wings to his feet and vigor to his muscles, would not have 
 seemed great. Warwick, it is true, was his friend. For the 
 white he had formed a romantic attachment, taking root in a 
 
 16* 
 
370 CAMP FIBE8 OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 mixed feeling of gratitude and admiration, such as has oftsn 
 occurred in civilized life ; and for one's friend, it is possible 
 that a man may give his life. But mark the brown youth as 
 he flies, and feel the throbbing of his heart, and |;iear him mur- 
 mur the name of the White Bird of Spain ; and as he catches 
 a glimpse of a star brighter than the rest, shining through the 
 branches of the trees, wishing that he might be able to pluck 
 it down and place it as a jewel in her hair. And yet it was 
 Captain Warwick's white bird that he was so anxious to n^ake 
 happy, by aiding to rescue her from the power of a man she 
 hated to place her forever in the arms of another, and the one 
 she loved. 
 
 Such were the feelings that nerved the young Indian, as 
 with incredible speed he compassed the distance of some four 
 leagues through the woods which intervened between the 
 Oquago village and the Spanish camp ; halting not, nor so much 
 as breaking his /ope, until he reached the cleared space which 
 immediately surrounded the fortress. There he paused, but 
 not for breath. It was still dark. Morning was at hand, but 
 had not yet broke ; and perceiving no stir in the camp, he stole 
 silently to the ditch, which he bridged in a moment with a 
 slender pole, on which he balanced himself across, like a rope- 
 dancer, and gained the pickets. The ascent to the top of these 
 was for him an easy task ; the scaling of the sharp points 
 above was attended with more difliculty and risk. But these 
 he braved without a moment's hesitation ; and, grasping the 
 iron spikes with his hands, with a supple spring threw his 
 body in the air, and supporting for an instant his whole weight 
 on his arms, turned half round like a top, and dropped down 
 lightly to the ground. 
 
 Here he made another pause, but discovering nothing to ex- 
 cite alarm, he started on his hands and knees in the direction 
 of Don Manuel's lodge. ' This he gained in safety, but discov- 
 ered to his dismay that it was inclosed by a patrol of senti- 
 
THE 8C0VT. 371 
 
 nels. He waited and listened ; and soon perceived that they 
 often halted and gathered in a knot for a moment's conversa- 
 tion, and was very sure that he recognized in their low tones, 
 as well as in their shadowy outlines, some of the most attach- 
 ed and unscrupulous menials of Don Ferdinand de Cassino. 
 Alarmed at this, he determined at all hazards to know the 
 worst. Taking advantage of a favorable moment, he gained 
 a corner of the low building, and running up the lapped and 
 projecting logs like a cat, in an instant was on the roof and 
 mostly concealed from observation. Drawing himself along 
 to the aperture left for the escape of the smoke, he thrust in 
 his head and took a survey of the interior. 
 
 A lamp was burning in the room, and he had no difficulty 
 in at once recognizing Don Manuel, the Lady Viola, and her 
 maid Ruby. They were fully dressed as though they had not 
 been in bed, and evidently in a state of alarm and agitation ; 
 but if prisoners, as every thing seemed to indicate, it was clear 
 that they were not conquered. The Spaniard was walking the 
 narrow room with a hasty stride, his pistols were in his belt 
 and sword by his side ; and he occasionally fingered his weap- 
 ons as though he expected and desired an opportunity for their 
 use at no very distant period. The daughter and maid were 
 nervous and weeping ; still the former constantly checked her 
 tears to speak soothing words to her father, and to take him by 
 the arm and endeavor to induce him to sit down. 
 
 Alwyn had little time to continue his observations. Day- 
 light would break upon the scene in a very brief space — in- 
 deed, the haze of morning was already on the hills. He would 
 gladly have leaped below and shared the fate of his white 
 friends, whatever that was destined to be, had the duties with 
 which his mission was charged permitted. As it was, he 
 could not leave them without an effort to make known his pres- 
 ence, that they might be supported and encouraged by the 
 knowledge that help was at hand ; and his ingenuity readily 
 
372 CAMP FIRES OF TEE RED MEN. 
 
 supplied him with a way, which he determined to risk, and 
 forthwith proceeded to put in execution. 
 
 The little ring that had once been Yiola's — a talisman, 
 which, to him, possessed a mysterious charm — was ever in 
 his possession as a sign of authority, when he scouted in the 
 direction of the Spanish quarters : and now, attaching it to a 
 slender thread, a sinew of the deer, he let it down through the 
 opening, and swung it back and forth for the purpose of attract- 
 ing attention. For several weary minutes this exercise was 
 continued in vain, notwithstanding a supplementary addition 
 of various slight sounds on which he ventured ; until Ruby, 
 rising from her seat and palsing beneath, was struck by the 
 missive in th* face. She stopped, distinguished the shining 
 circle, and grasped it in her hand. It was instantly recog- 
 nized ; and, following the thread upward with her eye, she 
 discovered without alarm the round, pleased features of Alwyn 
 faintly shadowed in the aperture above. 
 
 To call the attention of Viola and Don Manuel to this unex- 
 pected apparition was matter of a moment ; and all gathered 
 round, and the Spaniard mounted on a stool, in order to bring 
 himself more immediately into the vicinity of the young scout. 
 The Indian motion od them to circumspection and silence ; and 
 th>n, in a clear, round whisper, distinct instead of loud, audi- 
 ble in any part of the room, he said : 
 
 " Captain Warwick, Great Michael the White Eagle, Wis- 
 set the Mohawk brave and his red skins are in the woods. 
 White Bird ! they have guns and long knives ; they'll soon be 
 here : don't cry !" 
 
 Suddenly giving the ring a jerk, it flew from Viola's hand, 
 where the poor lady had been pressing it as a silent, but joy- 
 ful harbinger of hope, and Alwyn drew it up and disappeared 
 from the vision of the prisoners. Carefully watching his 
 chances, he descended from the lodge, scaled the pickets again 
 with the same agility and safety as before, and was soon, with 
 
TEE SCOUT. 373 
 
 the same measured paces that had brought him thither, push- 
 ing his rapid way down the mountain. 
 
 For several weary miles did the young Indian pursue his 
 onward course with the like unbroken step, but this time by 
 the river bank. The birds sung to him and flew about his 
 path as he went — the robin, the black-bird, the lark, and many 
 others — the turtle-doves cooed, the whip-poor-will, frightened, 
 sprung from his bush, and the partridge from the track ; the 
 black-snake and the rattle-snake, fled from his feet or were 
 cleared at a bound ; the sun poured down upon him, and hun- 
 ger became clamorous in its calls, but without diverting him 
 from his purpose or slackening his footsteps. Appeasing the 
 demands of the last by simply tightening the belt aroiAid his 
 waist, he pressed on ; and at length had the satisfaction to dis- 
 cover the war-party, for whose appearance he was so anxious^ 
 winding its way, in single file, along the river bank. 
 
 As the faithful runner was seen approaching, the Mohawk 
 called a halt, and the warriors, forgetting their usual caution 
 in the confidence and exhilaration of the moment, received 
 him with a burst of cheers which awoke the echoes of the 
 forest and reverberated from the distant hills across the water. 
 
 The report of the young scout was made in a very few 
 words, and the chiefs held a brief consultation. Warwick 
 and Johnson could not well repress their apprehension at the 
 apparent condition of affairs at the Spanish camp, and the dan- 
 gers to which Don Manuel and the Lady Viola were exposed 
 from the unscrupulous violence of Don Ferdinand ; and the 
 Mohawk chief, readily entering into their feelings, expressed 
 his willingness to risk a day-attack, and push forward and 
 punish the miscreant at once. 
 
 Their plans were soon matured, involving as they did only 
 the simplest elements of warfare applicable to an assault on 
 a fortified place — secrecy of approach, celerity of movement, 
 and bravery at the ramparts. They accordingly recommenced 
 
374 CAMP FIRES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 their march with a caution which had not hitherto been observ 
 ed. All shouting, noise, and conversation louder than an under- 
 tone were suppressed, and scouts were thrown in advance 
 upon the highlands and the path they were pursuing, in order 
 to prevent their approach from being discovered by any chance 
 straggler from the camp. 
 
 In this manner they reached the foot of the mountain. 
 Stopping a little short of the open meadows, which here skirt- 
 ed the shore of the Susquehanna, each man cut with his 
 hatchet a strong branch or bush, full of its verdant leaves, both 
 to conceal his person, in case of need, during the ascent of the 
 irregular and sometimes bare sides of the hill, and to use as 
 fascines to fill the ditch, when they should reach the fortress. 
 Thus provided they moved up the mountain, noiselessly as the 
 panther when he is stealing on his prey. No word was utter- 
 ed above a whisper, no dry limb was broken by a careless 
 step, scarcely a leaf was rustled. Sometimes they marched 
 m orderly single file, and again, at a motion of their chief, they 
 would separate, each springing to the shelter and concealment 
 of a bush or tree ; or they would drop motionless on the ground 
 or crawl upon their hands and knees, as the nature of the oc- 
 casion required, to cover them from observation. In this way 
 they reached the immediate neighborhood of the fortress, 
 where, concealed in a field of laurel behind an intervening 
 blufl?", they awaited the reappearance of Johnson, who had left 
 them farther down the mountain for the purpose of spying out 
 more fully the real posture of affairs within the camp. 
 
 Here, for a brief space, each minute lengthening itself into 
 an hour, and each hour into a day, Warwick was compelled to 
 smother his apprehensions, and content himself as best he 
 might until the time of action should arrive. The task, in- 
 deed, was a severe one. 
 
 " Did you get no glimpse of Don Ferdinand, no clue to what 
 had occurred, nothing by which you could determine whether 
 
TEE SCOUT. 375 
 
 Don Manuel had been overpowered by force or stratagem ?" 
 inquired he of Alwyn. 
 
 " Nothing," replied the Indian. " Me no dare to make them 
 talk. Logs have ears, and Alwyn could not run so fast as the 
 Spaniard's bullets." 
 
 " You were wise," continued Warwick. " It is best as it is. 
 A further risk might have endangered all — the assault, as well 
 as your safety — but the uncertainty that precedes action, in 
 the hour of peril, is more trying even to the soldier, schooled 
 to patience and endurance as he is, than the peril itself when 
 it comes." 
 
 The Mohawk was sitting beside Warwick and Alwyn, on 
 a little patch of grass shaded by laurel bushes, and, pointing 
 with his finger to a flowering vine, which was slowly toiling 
 up a stalk, he said : 
 
 " A day and a night — a whole moon — it will take that creep- 
 er to work its way up through leaves and around branches, . 
 seizing hold of a twig here and another there, to help it on its 
 way, and making twenty journeys around the laurel stem to 
 no purpose but to render its progress secure as it advances ; 
 but by-and-by it will reach the top, and come out into the light 
 and air, where it can see the sun, and blossom and be happy." 
 
 " Thank you for the lesson," said Warwick. " It is not a 
 new one, but needs, often to be enforced. The white, the 
 Indian, and the flower, in this respect, are all alike. Patience 
 — work and wait — is the common rule for each. As you 
 would say in your figurative language, the strong eye of the 
 eagle to look up, the courage of the wolf, and the perseverance 
 of that running vine, are necessary to success. I am not loth 
 to work, and will also learn to wait, during those lulls which 
 most commonly precede the grand climaxes and catastrophes 
 of life, as well as those periods when nothing can be done but 
 to watch the germinating and maturing of the fruits of labor 
 already expended." 
 
376 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 " Thou art wise in the resolve," said the chief. " When 
 we have done what we can, we have done *all. The Great 
 Spirit giveth victory<or defeat, and it is dseless for us to afflict 
 ourselves, lest his purposes overturn our own. We must give 
 way. But if we are men, he will treat us as iTien, and lead 
 us by the hand into pleasant and fruitful fields and warm 
 lodges ; for the father delighteth to make his children happy. 
 But your enemy shall howl to-day on his mountain, like the 
 wolf that has lost her young." 
 
 Again the chief passed into a sort of ecstasy, such as War- 
 wick had witnessed in the morning, and continued : 
 
 *' The hawk is on the wing ; the vulture and the crow for- 
 get their fear, and run upon the ground. The beasts of prey 
 are yelling in the woods, as they scent the smell of blood. 
 The clouds are gathering, the winds are crying in the north, 
 and raging to get loose. They break their barriers and rush 
 among the hills, and whistle through the trees. The voice 
 of the thunder comes, and the lightning cuts like a knife. The 
 rain pours down, and a rotten tree is crushed and falls with a 
 great noise. The storm ceases, the bow of the Great Spirit 
 spans the sky, and his fatherly eye looks out again upon the 
 world through the face of the sun. The fields and the trees, 
 bird, man, and beast, are refreshed, and rejoice in the beauty 
 of his smile. But wo to the tyrant of the hour for whom 
 the storm was prepared. He lies low with the tree that was 
 smitten, and goeth back to dust. His maidens across the sea 
 will call to him, but he will not hear. His mother and sisters' 
 will weep for him, but he will not see their tears. He shall 
 rot with the snake and the turtle ; but the white bird whom 
 he had caught in a cage shall be set free and sing upon the 
 hills ; and by her side shall rejoice the young brave to whom 
 she hath given all her love." 
 
 The Mohawk ceased speaking, and resumed his accustomed 
 appearance, as though nothing unusual had occurred. War- 
 
THE SCOVT. 377 
 
 wick was too much occupied with his own thoughts — with the 
 prophetic vision to which he had been listening, which seem- 
 ed to shadow forth the impending events of the day, and to lift 
 the mysterious vail from his dark future, prefiguring to his 
 gaze a glowing horizon of light and a still haven of rest, at no 
 grt'at distance ahead, as the termination of the thick harvest 
 of difficulties which he had latterly been reaping — to continue 
 the conversation, and he accordingly made no rejoinder. He 
 was not superstitious, but how could it be otherwise than that 
 the weird utterance of the chief should add to his confidence 
 and hope ? It had this effect, and in calmness and courage he 
 thenceforth awaited the development of his destiny. 
 
A COUP-DE-MAIN. POSTUBB OF AFFAIRS AT THE SPANISH CAMP. 
 
 ' Ah, who will help me In my deep despair ? 
 
 I call, but who will come ? Man and the day, 
 Nature and Heaven, have fled, and left me here 
 
 To i>eriBb with my child." 
 
 RETURN we now to the Spanish fortress. The miserable 
 Ambrose was already dead, illustrating very clearly in 
 his last hours, that if the approach of the final messenger is 
 generally alarming, to him who has spent his life in excesses 
 and crimes, wrongs committed against his neighbor and him- 
 self, it is terrible indeed. Night shut in on a distracted camp. 
 The men, released from their accustomed restraint, availed 
 themselves of the largesses which Don Ferdinand had dis- 
 tributed liberally among them, and gave the time to carousal. 
 Don Manuel and his daughter remained in their cabin. Signor 
 Antonio and Doctor Oquetos were with them until a late 
 hour ; but Don Manuel himself, conscious of his weakness, 
 and relying on the truce which the chevalier had publicly 
 proclaimed, until the following day at noon, decided to make 
 no change in his domestic arrangements, and to adopt no un- 
 usual measures for security or defense. A single sentinel was 
 stationed at the door. 
 
 Don Manuel lay down in his clothes with his weapons by 
 his side. He found it in vain to sleep. The pressing diffi- 
 culties of his situation overwhelmed him ; and with the rest, 
 the absence of Michael Johnson, in himself a host, perplexed 
 
A COUP-DB-MAm. 379 
 
 him not a little. Sometimes he felt disposed to draw encour- 
 agement from the fact. It was possible that he had gone on 
 a mission to Captain Warwick, and both might appear for his 
 succor at the moment of his greatest need. Again, he feared 
 that the old man had met with some accident in the forest ; or, 
 still more likely, that Don Ferdinand had caused him to be 
 waylaid and slain. Nervous and restless, he turned from side 
 to side, and morning was already at hand when he at length 
 sunk into a troubled repose. From this he was aroused by 
 the report of a pistol. Springing from his couch, and hearing 
 the noise of a struggle at the door, he withdrew the bolts, but 
 found that it had been secured from the outside. He pro- 
 ceeded to the windows, but was there met with weapons 
 pointed within. He demanded an explanation. No answer 
 was returned. He shouted to alarm his friends, and called on 
 his few faithful remaining adherents to come to the rescue of 
 their lord. But no one came, and 'at last he was obliged to 
 admit that he was a prisoner in his own quarters. Humili- 
 ating as was this result to the haughty Spaniard, he was still 
 consoled by the presence of his daught^. Viola was as yet 
 safe, and he was with her, with arms in his hands, to defend 
 her. In sorrowful attempts to console and support each other, 
 the father and the child anxiously awaited the approach of 
 day. 
 
 Don Ferdinand had now the complete mastery of the camp. 
 By a coup-de-main he had carried every thing, and with 
 scarcely a scratch on either side. A slight flesh-wound, in- 
 flicted by the shot of the sentinel at the door of Don Manuel's 
 quarters, on one of his partisans, was the severest injury 
 given or received. But having proceeded thus far, the cheva- 
 lier seemed little inclined to follow up his advantage. The 
 object of his pursuit was now at his mercy; and satisfied with 
 his triumph, and prompted by his indecision, and still fain to 
 cling to the semblance of fairness, he avowed the intention, 
 
380 CAMP FIBES OF TEE BED MEN. I 
 
 like an honorable knight, to await the set hour of noon for the 
 full realization of his wishes. 
 
 "How lenient!" said Don Manuel, bitterly. "Howmer-| 
 ciful is Cassino to his prisoners — his intended wife and father ! | 
 Why wait till noon ? Why not celebrate his nuptials at once, ^ 
 by torchlight, and compel his bride to his bosom before the 
 dawn of morning ? He is losing much time, and subjecting 
 himself to the imputation of an unmanly weakness. Besides, 
 the day may blush, while night and its ghouls would rejoice 
 to hold high carnival with him over acts like these. My 
 daughter ! my daughter !" 
 
 " Father !" said Viola, beseechingly, with face as white as 
 snow, and lips that quivered with terror ; " sit down beside 
 me, and let us be calm. Has Heaven forsaken us, and all its 
 good angels fled ? I can not think it. There are ways by 
 which God can save us yet. Shall we not trust him ?" 
 
 " Trust Him !" echoed Don Manuel, impatiently. " We are 
 forsaken by all — all on earth and all in heaven. Where is 
 he we call good Michael ? Where is Captain Warwick % and 
 the Father of the forsaken hath forsaken us too, Viola." 
 
 " Oh, say not so, father !" said Viola, imploringly. 
 
 " I did not mean it," returned Don Manuel, hurriedly. " I 
 retract it as foolishness hastily uttered ; for now when help 
 from the hand of man fails us, in this distant wilderness as we 
 are ; where no human eye can see us, no human voice can 
 cheer us with hope, who can find us out but God % Who else 
 can help us ? If we cut loose from him, we are alone— afloat, 
 Viola, on a shoreless sea." 
 
 Viola arose, and, throwing her arms around him, kissed him 
 warmly on the cheek. He embraced her fondly in return, 
 and led her back to the little stool on which she had been 
 sitting. Both seemed more calm. 
 
 " Cassino has been too fast," continued the Spaniard, after 
 a little pause. " He thinks to bend us, crush us, to his pur- 
 
A COVP^DE-MAW. ggf 
 
 pose, but he will fail. Knows he not that I have still an arm, 
 and weapons to defend my child ? and, with God's help, I will 
 use them to the utmost. Does he flatter himself that I may- 
 be compelled to assent to an act I abhor? He mistakes me. 
 He may take my life, if God will — thine too, my daughter — 
 but that is all. And should I perish and thou be left, Viola, 
 I charge thee by thy father's honor, and by thine own, what- 
 ever woes may threaten, whatever may befall, to remain 
 firm by the decision I have made. Whether he may give you 
 an honest marriage or not, any fate would be better than io 
 become his wife." 
 
 The Lady Viola, in her extreme pallor looking more like 
 alabaster than flesh and blood, with the tears coursing down 
 her cheeks, crossed her hands upon her breast, and, lifting her 
 eyes to heaven, said : 
 
 " I bow to thy will, kind Father ! but, with thy blessing, I 
 am resolved not to degrade my body nor my affections, what- 
 ever this man may do, whatever may betide." 
 
 " Amen !" ejaculated Ruby. " I will stand by you, my lady, 
 and die with you, so you hold firmly to that." 
 
 In a better frame of mind the three continued their efforts' 
 to console and support each another. They had looked the 
 worst that could happen in the face, and resolved to abide it 
 should it come, and felt strengthened. Don Manuel continued 
 to walk the floor, for, notwithstanding the improved condition 
 of his feelings, he could not at once overcome his physical 
 restlessness ; when, suddenly, a slight exclamation from Ruby 
 arrested his footsteps, and, on looking in the direction she 
 pointed, he recognized the young Indian, Alwyn, at the open- 
 ing in the roof. 
 
 The brief mter view which succeeded has already been nar- 
 rated, but the surprise and joy with which the unexpected 
 announcement of the scout filled the little party can not so 
 readily be written. A moment more and he had vanished ; 
 
382 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEFT. 
 
 but he left hope behind him, and the Lady Viola and her maid 
 dried their tears. 
 
 "Merciful Heaven!" ejaculated Ruby; "will my mistress 
 be saved ? The good Lord has heard us quickly." 
 
 As for Viola, she was too much affected to speak. She 
 could only clasp her father, and rest in silence in his arms. 
 Don Manuel pressed her to his breast, and his heart went up 
 in thanksgiving to the Great Dispenser of events, whose 
 mercy, but a little while before, he had been so ready to 
 distrust. 
 
 " We are not forgotten, Viola," he whispered. " God is 
 more mindful of us than we have been of him, or help, just at 
 the moment of our extremity, when least to be looked for, 
 would not have been provided. Pray, my daughter, that I may 
 be forgiven." 
 
 By this time daylight had broken upon the mountain, and 
 morning began to illuminate the interior of the cabin with its 
 cheerful eye. With its coming, the sound of a bugle saluted 
 the ears of the prisoners ; and while they were in wonder as 
 to the meaning of the strain, for it seemed to issue from the 
 little court of the lodge, a herald was announced with a formal 
 message from Don Ferdinand. That gentleman, with a 
 strange forgetfulness of himself and his acts, now proposed to 
 open a friendly negotiation with his fair prisoner and her 
 father, for an adjustment of differences. As he ought to have 
 anticipated, the offer was spurned by both with indignation. 
 Don Manuel refused to hold any intercourse either with the 
 herald or his master ; and Don Ferdinand perceived that re- 
 straint had done nothing toward humbling the pride of the 
 haughty Spaniard. Still the chevalier was not one readily to 
 yield a point. Determined to carry his end, he was, never- 
 theless, alarmed at the present posture of the affair, and its 
 possible termination. A bride absolutely forced into his arms, 
 while her father was being bound in her presence, was a cuJ 
 
A COUP'DE-MAIir. 383 
 
 mination if possible to be avoided. Besides, he knew very 
 well that Don Manuel was not likely to yield without a brave 
 resistance ; and though he had succeeded in mastering the 
 camp, and shutting him up in his lodge, he now began to real- 
 ize that his victory was not complete. The Lady Viola had 
 still to be separated from her father, and Don Manuel to be 
 disarmed. Hence, as the herald met with his rebuff, the loud 
 voice of Don Ferdinand himself, in continuation of the effort, 
 was heard in the court. 
 
 " Cassino, in his forbearance," said he, " makes still another 
 offer to negotiate. Though in a position to command his 
 rights, he prefers the gentler method of persuasion. He 
 would have no hardnesses between himself and the wife of his 
 love. He would have no thought of bitterness between him- 
 self and his old friend, and the friend of his father, Don Manuel 
 Torrillo. He would be at peace with all, arid especially with 
 those so dear to him, and with whom he is so closely allied. 
 And does he ask aught but what is his due— any thing that Don 
 Manuel or his daughter has any proper pretext for refusing to 
 grant 1 Does he demand more than the fulfillment of a most 
 solemn contract ? Has he not exhibited his devotion, the 
 ardor of his affection, by years of patient attention, by thou- 
 sands of miles of travel and vast expenditures of money, such 
 as no other noble of Spam would have laid at the feet of any 
 maiden, however fair 1 Then, if all this be so, will not the 
 Lady Viola and her father listen to his just requests, and place 
 themselves, by the act, once more in comfort and independence, 
 such as their rank in life demands — or if not, what reasons 
 can they show for the perpetration of an outrage, so undeserv- 
 ed, on an innocent man ; or in defense of a course, on their 
 own part, so inexplicable and strange ?" 
 
 Don Manuel made no reply, and, after a brief delay, the 
 chevalier continued : 
 
 "I will settle on the Lady Yiola Torrillo, as my wife, to 
 
384 OAMP ftHes of tite rk:) mkw 
 
 her and her heirs forever, in addition to settlements already 
 specifically stated in our marriage contract, long since drawn 
 up, my estate in Andalusia, the income of which is six thou- 
 sand pistoles a year. And if there be any other way which 
 the lady or her father can devise, by which I may manifest 
 the reality and strength of my affection, let it, I pray you, be 
 named." 
 
 " Don Ferdinand de Cassino," said Don Manuel, in a firm, 
 dignified voice, " the time for negotiation between us is past, 
 never to be renewed. You spend your breath in vain, and 
 exhibit your generosity to no purpose. I will have no terms 
 with you — no intercourse ; and, willingly, no word, hence- 
 forth, forever." 
 
 " Be it as you will, proud sir," returned Cassino, with a 
 sneer. "I have known loftier tempers subdued— haughtier 
 natures humbled. To me it is matter of little concern. No 
 power can save you from my hand, and still I would avoid 
 compulsion. The tears of the woman I love would touch my 
 heart too deeply. The enmity, impotent though it be, of an 
 old friend whom I so profoundly esteem, would jar my nerves 
 unpleasantly. I would greatly prefer to make you both happy 
 in the enjoyment of my wealth, my care, and my love. I give 
 you yet to the hour of noon to render your final decision." 
 
 Thus saying, with another blast of the bugle, Don Ferdi- 
 nand and his herald retired. Don Manuel, deeply chafed, 
 like a caged lion, strode hurriedly back and forth across the 
 room ; while the Lady Viola, every nerve of her body in com- 
 motion, lay gasping for breath in the arms of her maid. 
 
 " Oh, this is too terrible," said she, faintly. " When will it 
 end — when shall I be at rest? But how selfish I am, as 
 though I alone were the sufferer from the tyranny of this man ! 
 Our weaknesses are very strong upon us, sometimes ; but I 
 will endeavor to exhibit more fortitude and courage. Will help 
 come ? This dark uncertainty is dreadful to endure." 
 
A COUP-DE-MAIK 385 
 
 With a powerful effort at composure she arose and tottered 
 to the window. 
 
 " Help will come," responded Ruby, with a cheerful voice. 
 " Think you Captain Warwick and good Michael will play the 
 laggard ? No. Before noon they will pull this mountam nest 
 of the vulture down about his ears, and set us free." 
 
 With this she drew the rough board, mounted on legs, 
 which answered the purpose of a table, under the opening in 
 the roof: and placing thereon a stool, perched herself upon 
 it, and protruded her head through the aperture to see what 
 discoveries she could make. Tediously as dragged each mo- 
 ment by itself, the morning was rapidly wearing away. In 
 the camp all was quiet — indeed, a stillness unusual and por- 
 tentous seemed resting upon it. No sports were in progress, 
 no one was astir. The sentinels stood mutely at their posts, 
 and beast and bird were dumb. These who kept guard about 
 the lodge had gathered, as she concluded, under its shady 
 side, as she heard the low murmur of voices, hardly above a 
 whisper, coming up in that direction, which was the only 
 sound that met her ear. She gazed down the side of the 
 mountain, pausing in her scrutiny at each tree, and bush, and 
 field of laurel, but with no better success. Nothing stirred — 
 there was not even a breath of air to shake an aspen-leaf, and 
 the restless world for once seemed asleep. Disappointed, and 
 ^ fearful of being detected at her look-out, she descended again 
 to the floor ; but often during the anxious and uncertain hours 
 which succeeded did she cautiously revisit the orifice, and re- 
 new her faithful watch. 
 
 It was a fervid summer day. Gradually the sun moved 
 toward the zenith ; and the party, so anxious during the terrors 
 of the night for a sight of his face, and later, for the wasting of 
 his hours, now regarded his advance with alarm, and gladly 
 would have stayed him in his career. It seemed^ indeed, as 
 though he were coursing through the sky with a double speed 
 
 17 
 
386 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 with the determination to hurl them into the midst of the catas- 
 trophe which threatened, before its time. No signs of a res- 
 cue appeared, and it lacked but an hour of noon, when, sud- 
 denly, the keen eye at the roof — that of the faithful Ruby — 
 espied^a solitary footman winding along the rugged path which 
 led to the fortress ; and she announced*the fact to the anxious 
 listeners below. 
 
 ** Who is he like ?" inquired Don Manuel. 
 
 "His gait reminds me of good Michael," replied Ruby, 
 •* but be is so much hidden by the bushes that it is difficult to 
 make him out." 
 
 " God grant that it may be he !" said the Lady Viola, fer- 
 vently. " His honest face would shame our oppressor into 
 better deeds, even though he were able to yield us no other 
 aid." 
 
 " It is Michael !" said Ruby, with unguarded emphasis, 
 loud enough, though still in a low tone, to reach the ears of 
 the guard. 
 
 " Michael, is it ?" echoed one of Don Ferdinand's satellites, 
 as, stepping into view, he elevated his musket and drove the 
 maiden below. 
 
 And Michael indeed it was, come to spy out the condition 
 of the land. He was alone, his ancient rifle on his arm ; and 
 he proceeded at his usual leisurely gait, humming a tune as 
 he went, and now indifferently casting his eyes at the sun, 
 and again pausing to note some trifle in his way. He, even 
 when within a rod of the gate of the camp, stopped and de- 
 liberately dissected one of those remarkable stones which 
 Doctor Oquetos in his devotion to science had rendered 
 familiar to every inmate of the fortress, and which the learned 
 gentleman often declared, while collecting the vast cabinet of 
 specimens which lumbered his tent, were among the geolog- 
 ical wonders of the world. But, on arriving at that gate, the 
 veteran was denied admission. He expressed a natural Bur- 
 
A COTJP-DE-MAIN. 387 
 
 prise, and asked some questions ; but the entrance was in the 
 keeping of the most devoted mii.ions of Don Ferdinand, and 
 he received nothing in return but surly answers and directions 
 to depart, while allowed to do so in safety. Johnson, how- 
 ever, seated himself on a stone, and managed to keep up a 
 rambling conversation/ from which, by the exercise of a little 
 tact, he was shortly enabled to draw very accurate conclusions 
 as to the situation of affairs within. At length he arose, 
 loitered, and with still hesitating steps went away. 
 
 The general features of that part of the mountain on which 
 the camp was situated are doubtless in the mind of the reader. 
 The camp itself, it will be recollected, occupied a detached 
 prominence, jutting from the mountain's side. Below, the 
 ground stretched away in an uneven descent, here an emi- 
 nence, and there a hollow or craggy ravine, until it reached 
 the meadows bordering on the Susquehanna. Here and there 
 were scattering trees ; but the vegetation was principally of a 
 more dwarfish description, consisting of bushes, five or six 
 feet high, interspersed with clumps of a somewhat larger 
 growth. Of these the laurel was by far the most abundant, 
 frequently spreading into considerable fields. But large 
 portions of the hillside were comparatively bare, being 
 fringed, as it were, merely with a short beard of the huckle- 
 berry, wild grass, and the like. Above, the mountain wa? 
 still more rough and precipitous, presenting to the beholdei 
 fro'm below, patches of brown earth, alternating with ledges 
 of gray rock,- and beetling cliffs, and deep and somber chasms. 
 
 The mine, so called, was in the side of the hill opposite the 
 camp, and nearly on a level with it. In that direction the 
 gate of the fortress opened. As the work of excavating had 
 progressed, the ravine running between the mine and the 
 camp had been gradually filled with earth and stone, until a 
 continuous causeway had been formed from the gate to the 
 mouth of the cave. The somewhat extensive excavation had 
 
388 CAMP FIEES OF THE BED MEN. 
 
 also produced other changes worthy of notice. The superin- 
 cumbent mass had felt the loss of a secure foundation whereon 
 to repose, and several alarming, but not very important slides 
 of earth and slate from above, from time to time had occurred. 
 The last of these proved by far the most serious. It extended 
 higher up than any of its pred6cessors, and, indeed, quite to 
 the base of a large oval surface rock, which, partially under- 
 mined, at once assumed a very threatening aspect above their 
 heads. 
 
 To this pressing danger immediate attention had been 
 given. The rock, on examination, was found to be as com- 
 pletely detached from every thing else as though it had been 
 dropped, like an immense ball, from the sky. It was also 
 found, since the disturbing of its foundation, to rest nearly on 
 a balance, and accordingly levers were speedily arranged for 
 the purpose of starting it in its descent. But at this point a 
 solemn pause ensued. Unless means could be devised to turn 
 it aside from its legitimate course, it must inevitably find a 
 resting-place in the mouth of the mine, closing it far more 
 effectually than would a door of triple steel. But here agam, 
 all interest in the rock, and even in the mine itself, had been 
 brought to a sudden conclusion by the occurrence of the out- 
 break between the Spanish leaders ; and the stone, with its 
 appended levers, still maintained its threatening position, at 
 an altitude of some fifty feet above the mine. 
 
^ajftu iGxiu-niut. 
 
 DOCTOR OQUETOS EXALTED. A NOONDAY ESCALADE. THE PRIZE TO THK 
 VICTOR. 
 
 " Death of thy soul ! those linen cheeks of thine 
 Are counselors to fear." 
 
 AS Michael Johnson disappeared from the camp, there was 
 a smothered expression of regret on the part of the loiter- 
 ers around the outworks at thus parting from the old man ; 
 for however it might be with him who now bore sway in the 
 fortress, it was certain that the veteran had always been a 
 good friend to them, and they could owe him no ill-will. 
 
 " I wonder where he will go ?" said one, with a sigh. 
 
 " I do not know," returned another. " Perhaps among the 
 Mohawk Indians, with whom, I have heard him say, he used 
 to live." 
 
 " Like enough," continued the first speaker. " Perhaps he 
 has no other home. Who could have thought that the gates 
 would ever be shut against Mike, good Mike. I always feel 
 better and more like a man when he is about. It is a bad 
 sign, I wish I knew how this day would end." 
 
 "Whist!" said the other. " Be a little careful, man. It is 
 our business to obey orders, and let others talk, and bear the 
 blame, too, if there be any wrong done." 
 
 " Can that be ?" said the first. " I have heard Father An- 
 tonio say, more than once, that those who commit crimes will 
 have to answer for them, and I expect that you and I will 
 
390 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEHT. 
 
 have to answer for our share in last night's work, as well as 
 for what we may do to-day." 
 
 "Poh! poh! man," returned the other. "You talk like a 
 child. If you feel like that, you had better back out. Don 
 Ferdinand would only cut off both your ears, if he were to 
 know of your preaching in this way." 
 
 " Back out !" echoed the conscientious man. " I am the last 
 one for that, as you very well know. I was only regretting 
 that we were obliged to treat our old friend Mike so shabbily ; 
 and I can not but feel a little troubled that we have been 
 forced, in self-defense, to shut up our master, Don Manuel, 
 and the Lady Viola, and Father Antonio, and — " 
 
 " Stop !" said the other, imperatively, " or I will report you. 
 Do you not know that you are talking treason, man ? Trea- 
 son, sir, is a great crime ; far greater than merely shutting 
 one's master up in his quarters for a day or two, in self- 
 defense, as you say. We do as Don Ferdinand tells us, and 
 he pays us for it, does he not? Answer me that. Well, 
 what more have we to say about it ? It is his business, not 
 ours." 
 
 The parties, during this conversation, were standing near 
 the palisades, at a point which looked below, and to the east 
 of the encampment. At this juncture the attention of the last 
 speaker was attracted by a motion of the bushes nigh by on 
 the .hillside, and he proceeded to express his opinion that a 
 deer had ventured into the close proximity of the fortress, and 
 regretted that his musket was not at hand, that he might try 
 him with a shot, 
 
 " But," said the other, " while we have been talking here, I 
 have seen a maneuver with the bushes which I am certain 
 never was got up by the deer. • But do not let me detain you. 
 ] suppose you want to report me to Don Ferdinand?" 
 
 " Nonsense, man ! What was it you saw ?" 
 
 ** You perceive that ravine below, yonder. It is a water- 
 
A NOONDAY ESCALADE. 391 
 
 course when it rains and the torrents are pouring^own the 
 mountain ; and, as you see, is as bare of vegetation as the 
 back of my hand. Not long since there was a row of bush«s 
 strung across it, like a file of men ; and I watched it, while 
 you were so busy lecturing me, till the last bush marched up 
 the bank on this side, and disappeared among the laurel." 
 
 " Well, now, that is very strange," replied the listener to this 
 marvel. " No one ever saw the like in old Spain, and I guess, 
 my man, you are joking ?" 
 
 At this point the learned Doctor Oquetos, who, as a gentle- 
 man of the lancet rather than the sword, whose professional 
 services were liable to be needed at any moment, had, after a 
 few hours' durance, been set at liberty by Don Ferdinand, 
 made his appearance, and was at once appealed to in ex- 
 planation of the walking bushes. The doctor applied his 
 forefinger to the region of his reflective organs, and maintained 
 a dignified silence for the space of half a minute. He then 
 broke forth in a sort of rhapsody : 
 
 " O that I might have seen it, I myself ! it were a wonder 
 well worth the reporting, for history and science do record a 
 like event but once, when Birnam wood walked up to Dun- 
 sinane. America ! thou land of many marvels, of giant trees 
 and promenading bushes, thou shalt hereafter quite surprise 
 the world, when thou canst show thyself; and science, goddess 
 of my fond devotion, shall hang upon thy brow her laurel — 
 crimson — golden — myrtle — cap." 
 
 While the doctor was thus struggling to renew his acquaint- 
 ance with Shakspeare, and also to discover the proper adjective 
 and noun wherewith to close his period, his speech was sud 
 denly cut short by sounds as unexpected as they were startling 
 First came a shot from a sentinel, and then the terrible war- 
 whoop of the savages ; and ere the reverberations of the cry 
 had died away, it was known that the Indians in force were 
 upon them. They were seen quitting their covers, the patches 
 
392 CAMP FIRES OF TITE RED MEN. 
 
 of laurel and other bushes which had concealed their ap- 
 proach, and like so many beasts of prey, furious with hunger, 
 were rushing up the bank to the attack of the fortress. 
 
 To the camp this daring assault at broad noon was a per- 
 fect surprise. There were men enough and arms enough, in 
 connection with its comparatively strong outworks, its mound, 
 its palisades and ditch, for its defense, even against a more 
 powerful force than now threatened it ; but at this hour of the 
 day the men were scattered hither and thither, some playing at 
 quoits or other games, some telling stories to a crowd of gap- 
 ing listeners, and some asleep, their weapons in one place and . 
 they in another; and unfortunately for them, their experience 
 in Indian warfare, at an emergency like this, was well calcu- 
 lated to add to their dismay. 
 
 Don Ferdinand, at the time of the alarm, was quietly re- 
 clining on his couch, and occasionally sipping a little wine, in 
 order to brace his nerves for the anticipated grand climacteric 
 of the coming noon. But quite a different scene awaited him 
 from that on which his fancy had been reveling. As the well- 
 known cry struck his ear he sprung to his feet, and hurling 
 the half-emptied bottle at the head of an attendant, rushed out 
 of doors. 
 
 For a time the voice of Don Ferdinand rung in trumpet 
 tones, high and clear through the camp. He rallied his men ; 
 he issued his orders promptly ; he infused courage into them 
 by the energy of his tones and gestures ; and, better than all, 
 'he placed himself at their head, and led them to the wall. 
 But as he approached the point of attack, he recognized a 
 voice among the assailants which sent more terror to his heart 
 than all the yells of the savages. It was the voice of Charles 
 Warwick, and mingling, with it were the cool inspiring tones 
 of Michael Johnson. 
 
 The chevalier recoiled. He remained on the ground only 
 long enough to issue some general directions, when he turned 
 
A NOONDAY ESOALADK 393 
 
 again toward the center of the camp. The day he already- 
 considered lost, and with that conviction came a resolve as 
 desperate as himself. He ordered the priest Antonio to be 
 summoned, and with a few attendants proceeded directly to 
 the quarters of Don Manuel. He unfastened the door, but 
 found it barred within by the sword of the Spaniard. He 
 directed him to be seized. His menials attempted to obey, 
 but the first one that approached fell a victim to the enraged 
 father's sword. Furious, despairing, Don Ferdinand drew a 
 pistol and fired. Don Manuel fell, and the Lady Viola, with 
 a wild shriek, tottered forward and threw herself on his pros- 
 trate body. 
 
 Father Antonio had now arrived. There was no longer 
 any resistance to be feared, except from Ruby O'Brady ; and 
 she, poor girl, horror-struck at the scene before her, had flown 
 to raise her mistress in her arms, and was easily secured. 
 The chevalier entered the lodge. Ordering one of his minions 
 to support the half fainting Viola, he took her white hand in 
 his, and bade the priest perform the marriage ceremony. 
 
 Father Antonio was bewildered with affright. 
 
 " Reflect, my son, on what you are doing," he stammered 
 out. 
 
 " I have reflected," said Don Ferdinand. " This is the set 
 time, and it shall not pass." 
 
 *' But her father is dying," objected the priest. 
 
 "Were the whole world dying," exclaimed the chevalier, 
 fiercely, " it should not stop me. She is my wife already, as 
 you very well know, and it now needs but a word, a form, 
 that the fact may have a convenient voucher. Go on !" 
 
 " I will not," replied Father Antonio, firmly. " The curse 
 of Heaven light on us both if I do." 
 
 Don Ferdinand trembled with passion. He saw himself 
 hedged in at every turn, his designs one by one frustrated, 
 and more than all, the Lady Viola, the prize for which he 
 
 17* 
 
394 CAMP fihes of tee red men. 
 
 had sacrificed so much, slipping from his fingers forever. 
 But there was little time for deliberation. The cries without 
 at the brtast- works were growing louder and louder, and he 
 perceived that they were largely made up of shouts of cheer 
 and triumph from his foes. There was only one way in which 
 he could conclude the argument at all to liis satisfaction with 
 the stubborn priest, and springing upon him he plunged a 
 poniard in his heart. Shaking the reeking blade in the air, 
 he screamed in the ears of his horrified menials : 
 
 " Hinds ! caitiffs ! gape not at me ! Thus Cassino punishes 
 the disobedient !" 
 
 He gave some hasty orders. He went out himself to note 
 the progress of the battle, and the exact present posture of 
 affairs, and smiled with a hellish malignity as he ascertained 
 that the passage to the gate and the mine remained un- 
 obstructed. Returning, he gazed for an instant on the inani- 
 mate form of the Lady Viola ; but there was no compunctious 
 relenting in his looks. His face was as pale as that of the 
 dead priest at his feet. His eyes glared like a serpent's : 
 but he was calm — calmer to appearance than he had been 
 at any period for days. Taking the Lady Viola in his 
 arms, he gathered his followers around him in a circle and 
 passed out of the lodge. Her light form lay across his 
 shoulder, and her long, black hair hung down his back and 
 waved behind him in the wind as he rushed forward at a 
 headlong speed toward the gate, and through it disappeared 
 from the camp. 
 
 The point where Johnson and his allies had made their 
 assault was quite to the east of the one at which Don Ferdi- 
 nand accomplished his exit. It had been selected solely for 
 the reason that it lay in the direction of their approach, and 
 was soonest reached after quitting the cover of the bushes. 
 Had it not been /or the delay in bridging the ditch, the works 
 would have been carried before the Spaniards were prepared 
 
A NOONDA r ESCALADE. 395 
 
 to resist. As it was, Warwick, Johnson, and the Mohawk, 
 with a score of their red followers at their heels, were on the 
 wall as soon as its defenders. A hand-to-hand conflict en- 
 sued, which had been too suddenly precipitated, and was too 
 closely pressed for the exercise of firearms. Besides, John- 
 son was anxious to avoid bloodshed, and what was better, had 
 succeeded in impressing his wishes, in this particular, fully on 
 his associates ; and furthermore, it so turned out, that a very 
 small part only of the guns of the Spaniards were loaded. A 
 few straggling shots, from time to time, were exchanged, but 
 the conflict was face to face over the pickets. The mastery 
 of these, for some minutes, was hotly contested. At length 
 breaches were eflected ; the assailants poured through ; their 
 leader was not present to encourage them, and the Spaniards 
 slowly fell back. 
 
 Johnson and his allies having thus obtained a firm foot7 
 hold within the fortress, demanded its surrender. To this 
 no reply was returned. The Spaniards continued to retreat 
 in the direction of the gate, and finally, quickening their 
 pace, rushed through in a body, and closed and barred it after 
 them. 
 
 At this moment, when the victory seemed complete, and the 
 triumphant shouts of the conquerors shook the air, the young 
 Indian, Alwyn, with a look of dismay, directed the attention 
 of Warwick out upon the causeway. The eye of the 'Ameri- 
 can was just in time to take in the receding figure of Don 
 Ferdinand, as, with the body of the Lady Viola on his back, 
 he disappeared within the mine. Uttering a cry of anguish, 
 Warwick pressed forward to the gate. But its bolts and 
 chains resisted his eflbrts. Calling for an axe, with repeated 
 blows, driven home with all the energy of desperation, he 
 hewed into the massive fabric, when Johnson, coming up with 
 a heavy beam of wood, directed by the united strength of a 
 score of his men, with a stroke and a crash swept the impedi- 
 
396 CAMP FIRES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 merit from thsir path, and Warwick, the White Eagle, and the 
 Mohawk, their exulting followers pressing close behind, 
 passed out abreast upon the narrow way, which seemed des- 
 tined to be the scene of a still final struggle. 
 
 Don Ferdinand, meanwhile, having deposited his uncon- 
 scious burden in the mine, like an angry wolf from his cave, 
 came forth to the defense. He had now lost all motive but 
 revenge. No longer careful of himself, he rallied his men, and 
 with his sword in one hand and a pistol in the other placed 
 himself at their head. The parties met midway on the ele- 
 vated path. As they approached each other, Warwick sprung 
 ahead of his associates, and requested them to leave the 
 wretch to him. Johnson and the Mohawk accordingly came 
 to a halt, and checked the advance of their forces ; and the 
 movement, singularly enough, was understood and followed on 
 the part of the Spaniards, leaving a clear field in the center 
 to the combatants. While yet several paces intervened be- 
 tween the two, Don Ferdinand leveled his pistol and snapped 
 it. But the instrument contained no leaden death within its 
 walls ; its contents had been lodged in the bosom of Don 
 Manuel Torrillo, his oldest and best friend, and one who had 
 been true to him much longer than he had remained true to 
 himself. Throwing the weapon madly from him, with his 
 sword he closed in with bis foe. 
 
 Once more Charles Warwick and Don Ferdinand de 
 Cassino stood hand to hand and breast to breast, rivals in 
 love, but antipodes in all else. Neither spoke, and an equal 
 fury and determination seemed to animate them. * The terrible 
 passions which consumed the Spaniard, the sting of fancied 
 injuries, of disappointed love, and jealousy, and black revenge, 
 were printed on his face like clouds and flashes on a warring 
 sky. Even the noble Warwick, in his desperate strait, ap- 
 peared more like a demon than a man ; and as the eyes of the 
 twain shot forth their angry streams, it seemed as though each 
 
A NOONDA Y ESCALADE. 397 
 
 'glance was armed with arrows. The play of weapons which 
 succeeded was marked with consummate activity and skill. 
 Don Ferdinand, having thrown every thing on this last stake, 
 remained collected ; and Warwick, conscious that this was 
 the very pivot of his life, as well as that of another, even 
 dearer than himself, suppressed his swelling heart and kept 
 it pent within. Both dealt their rapid blows with right good 
 will, and their burnished brands, as they circled in the air, 
 gleamed like lambent tongues of fire. But stroke and thrust 
 and feint continued to be parried ; and the eager spectators — 
 the Indian and the white — as they looked on with staring eyes, 
 and hair stirred with strange life, seemed stiffening in their 
 tracks. 
 
 Content was Michael Johnson to rest the fate of the day 
 and the fortunes of the Lady Viola on the good cause and the 
 good sword of his son. But while the combat still hung in 
 suspense, and every thought and sense were centered there, 
 the attention of the veteran was attracted away to the project- 
 ing rock which overhung the mine. He discovered men 
 around it handling the levers, and in a moment the hellish 
 purpose of Don Ferdinand, to destroy the Lady Viola if he 
 could not save her to himself, flashed on his mind. Dropping 
 his weapons where he stood, he sprung past the combatants 
 and threw himself into the ranks of the Spaniards. Taken 
 by surprise, and seeing him unarmed, and more than all, ac- 
 customed to respect him, they gave way and suffered him to 
 pass on unmolested. 
 
 This sudden movement of Johnson by no means escaped 
 the notice of Warwick, but he had little time to give it thought. 
 With the fact itself came the impression that it was in some 
 manner connected with the safety of the Lady Viola, but how 
 he could not stop to guess. Happily for him, no suspicion of 
 the horrible truth at the moment gained access to his mind. 
 With Don Ferdinand it was otherwise. As the old man 
 
398 CAMP FIBES OF THE RED MEN. 
 
 strode by him, like a winged colossus, he readily divined his 
 object, and he perceived that his own sun was nigh to the 
 wave, and about to set in a vast and unknown ocean. He 
 rallied his flagging powers. He struck with the rapidity of 
 light, and with the force, as it seemed to him, of the resistless 
 lightning ; but in vain. Warwick was a tower he could not 
 move ; and as the black wing of despair flapped over his heart 
 and brain, covering his horizon with shadows, in utter hope- 
 lessness he waved his hand. The abstraction, though but 
 momentary, was fatal to his safety. The sword-arm lost its 
 supremacy in the action of the other, and he received the point 
 of his adversary's weapon in his bosom. The quivering steel 
 staid not in its career until the hilt smote against his chest 
 with a heavy, dull sound. The silver chord of life was cut m 
 twain, and he fell dead. 
 
 But the terrible signal, indicated by the motion of his hand, 
 while yet the soul was in him, was seen and understood. His 
 obedient slaves threw themselves on the levers. The massive 
 stone trembled, rocked, reeled heavily forward, and fell 
 thundering down with the force of an avalanche. But while 
 it yet hung balanced, as on a pivot, Michael Johnson, with 
 the Lady Viola in his arms, was discovered in the mouth of 
 the mine. He was well aware of his danger. The grating, 
 jarring death above him had sufficiently warned him of that, 
 and he was stretching every nerve, and taxing every power, 
 and calling to his God that he might escape it; and more for 
 the lily burden that he bore than for himself. But the 
 mighty missive delayed not. It came, enveloped in a cloud 
 of dust, and struck, with a report like a piece of ordnance, 
 and a shock which made the vast hill tremble. For a mo- 
 ment the fate of Johnson and Viola was unknown. Warwick 
 sprung forward, and passed unquestioned and unnoticed 
 through the midst of the confounded Spaniards. He pene- 
 trated the cloud of smoke ; he shouted ; and with a cry of joy 
 
A NOOKDAY ESCALADE. 399 
 
 received from the hands of his father the Lady Viola, pale 
 and trembling like a frightened bird, but breathing and un- 
 harmed ; and, as he clasped her to his heart, he told her that 
 her troubles were ended, and promised her a safe and happy 
 shelter in his bosom forever. 
 
COKCIiUSION. 
 
 Farewell ! a ■word that must be, and hath been— 
 A word which makes us linger— yet— farewell I" 
 
 THE woof whereof the web of this history hath been 
 woven is at an end; the shuttle creaks and stops as it 
 attempts to play ; the fates stand ready with their shears, and 
 why delay to cut it from the loom ? Shall we detain our 
 audience by the sleeve while we proceed to show with what 
 prolixity the flying threads might be knotted into festoons of 
 fringed and tasseled patch-work at the end ? No. The 
 catastrophe is over, the spell is broken, and what boots it to 
 describe, in tedious and laboring sentences, the scarcely more 
 tedious return of the party to New York ; how Mistress War- 
 wick rejoiced on again embracing her son ; how Warwick 
 and the Lady Viola were shortly married, the gallant Major 
 Yan Quirk and Amelia Clinton, soon to become Mrs. Gates, 
 oflSiciating as bridesman and bridesmaid on the occasion ; how 
 Michael Johnson lived for many years, in summer the W^hite 
 Eagle among the Mohawks, in winter the veteran hunter with 
 his son, stealing the hearts of his grandchildren, and the 
 esteem even of the most elevated and aristocratic circles of 
 the city ; how Don Manuel Torrillo recovered of his wound, 
 and regained his estates both in Mexico and Spain ; how 
 Doctor Oquetos returned to his native land, where his valu- 
 able contributions to the cause of science — his cabinet of 
 American stones, and several learned essays on scientific 
 topics connected with the New World — were rewarded with 
 
coiroLusioir 401 
 
 the chair of Geology in the University of Salamanca ; how 
 the Indian, Alwyn, received every kindness and a liberal edu- 
 cation at the hands of his white brother, but, like a true 
 Indian, ultimately returned to the haunts and habits of his 
 fathers, vv^here through every vicissitude of his checkered 
 career he managed to preserve, and wore in his bosom as an 
 amulet, a raven lock of hair which that more fortunate brother, 
 who possessed the original to whom it once belonged, at his 
 special request had committed to his keeping ; how the 
 Amazonian maiden. Ruby O'Brady, crowned the aspirations 
 of the faithful Solyman with her hand ; and how Major Van 
 Quirk lived and died a bachelor ; and how, at his demise, 
 which took place near half a century later, an unexpected 
 difficulty occurred in the preparation of his obituary, and how 
 the place where his age should have been was unavoidably 
 filled with a dash. 
 
 Nevertheless, as the author closes his labors, and commits 
 the fictitious personages, who have moved so long in these 
 pages at his command, into the hands of his readers, he 
 would not disguise that he feels for them something of the 
 anxiety of a tender parent for his off*spring when he sends 
 them forth to seek their fortune in the world. He would fain 
 have the children of his fancy well received, and would be 
 gratified to learn that their characters were considered well 
 formed and their manners respectable. Still, he is aware that 
 youth, as they make their advent on the stage of action, must 
 be left, in the main, to secure their own position by a proper 
 exhibition of their quality and parts, and that it would not become 
 him, on the present occasion, to do more than to commend the 
 objects of his solicitude to that common courtesy and forbear- 
 ance which are freely extended to all. So, with a simple ex- 
 pression of the wish, that the acquaintance may prove agreeable, 
 he sends them forth with the paternal blessing to find or 
 make a way on the uncertain Sea of Life. 
 
J. 0. DERBY S PUBLICATIONtJ. 
 
 THE MORNINQ STARS OF THE NEW 
 ' WORLD. 
 
 BY n. F. PARKER. 
 
 1 elegant 12ino. volume, over 400 pages, six Illustrations. Price $1 25. 
 
 Contents : — Columbus — Vespucius — De Soto^Raleigh — Hudson — Smith 
 —Standish— Arabella Stuart— Elliott and Penn. 
 
 *' An unpretending work, yet a valuable one. The authoress most have entered upoa 
 her task with hearty enthusiasm, as, while adhering strictly to the simplest truth, sho 
 ^ has thrown around her portraits a new charm, and given to them a refreshing novelty 
 of aspect. A gallery of striking portraits worthy of preservation and a galaxy of stars 
 whose morning light must not be obscured ia the noon-tide brilliancy of a successful 
 present. Ir. just such a form as this should they lie on our book-tables, reminders of the 
 past, shorn of the technicalities of the history, and presented in strong relief. The cam« 
 of the authoress is one almost unknown ; but she deserves the thanks of the public for 
 her well written book in which she has given a convenient medium of communication with 
 days of long ago — days that never should be forgotton even by the busy, bustling world 
 that cannot stop to go back even to the days of their own forefathers. The book proves 
 Itself a very entertaining one for the young, who declare themselves unable to leave its 
 fascinating pages."— Worceiter Palladium. 
 
 " A more appropriate name could not have been given to a book which contains all 
 that is interesting in the lives of the master spirits to whom the world may be said to owe, 
 firstly the discovery of this great continent ; and secondly, the establishment upon it, of 
 European colonies. In no other single work, of whose existence we are aware, are thers 
 to be found so many sketches of the discoverers and first settlers of the principal parts 
 of the new world, which are at once so concise and comprehensive, as those given in the 
 Morning Stars.' They are truly mviUfwin in parvo."—PhiladelpMa Jfewa. 
 
 ** The authoress has fashioned her materials in a very winning garb, and with a spirit 
 and feeling rarely kindled in preparing succint biographies, imparts her glowing appre* 
 ciatlon of their subject to the reader. We hope this volume, while in itself it will be 
 valuable to the young, will lead them to more extended historical reading, and especially 
 of that which pertains to our colonial life, and to our own country. It is well that they 
 should be reminded of the coafiicts and sacrifices which purchased their present luxttrl< 
 ous immunities. They cannot begin better than with this charming volume, which they 
 will not leave unfinished."— ^ete Bedford Mercury. 
 
 *' This book is alike novel, and fortunate in its title and its character. It contains very 
 satisfactory sketches of ten of the great spirits the history of whose lives blends itselX 
 most intimately with the earliest history of our country. It was a beautiful thought ; and 
 it is carried out in a manner that can hardly fail to secure to the work many delighted 
 readers.'*— ^i6a»y Argui. 
 
 " The book has all the charm of romance, and the value of genuine history. It is 
 Irritten with spirit and vigor, and at the same time with precision and taste. The grouping 
 ^ together of such m»n briugs the reader iuto the best of company."— ^tica Herald. 
 
J. c. derby's publications. 
 
 "Bell's sketches are instinct with life, they sparkle with brilliants, are gei ■ 
 med with wit, and address themselves to almost every thoti of the huim-j 
 heart." — Louisville (Ky.) Bulletin. 
 
 BEl^L SMITH ABROAD. 
 
 A. Handsome 12mo. volume. Price $1 00. With Illustrations by teialy, 
 Walcutt, and Overarche. 
 
 *♦ The readers of the Louisville Journal need no introduction from us to Beli Bmitb> 
 Her own brilliant pen, and her own sparkling, witching and delightful style have so often 
 graced the columns of this paper, and have made so many friends and admirers for her, 
 that we need say but little toward creating a demand for this charming volume. But 
 Boroe tribute is nevertheless due to Bell Smith for the real pleasure she has imparted in 
 every chapter of her book, and that tribute we cheerfully pay. Her admirable powert 
 peem so much at home in every variety and phase of life, that she touches no subject 
 ''*ttiout making it sparkle with the lights of her genius." — Louisville Journal. 
 
 ' She is ever piquant in her remarks, and keen from observation ; and the result it 
 iAat her ' Abroad' is one of the most interesting collections of incident and comment, fun 
 »nd pathos, seriousness and gossip, which has ever fallen under our notice." — Boston 
 Evening Traveller. 
 
 " It is dashing and vigorous without coarseness — animated with a genial humor — 
 showing acute and delicate perceptions — and sustained by a bracing infusion of common 
 sense."— JV: Y. THbv/ne 
 
 ♦•There are many delicate strokes, and not a little of that vivacity of description 
 which entertains. The author shows her best side when matters of home-feeling and 
 affection engage her pen." — N. Y. Evangelist. 
 
 " History, art and personal narrative are alike imprinted in your memory by the asso- 
 ciations of anecdote, merry and grave, and you feel that you are listening to the magical 
 voice of ' Bell Smith' at honi« Such volumes enrich and honor American literature.** — 
 PMladeVphia Merchant. 
 
 " This is a capital book ; full of life, spirit, vivacity and information— thoroughly lady- 
 like, and telling precisely what everybody wants to hear, so far as the author knows.** — 
 Salem Gazette. 
 
 " Spirited and artistic ! Bell Smith sparkles, and dashes on, amusing and interesting 
 A capital book for a leisure hour or railroad travel, or for those seasons when you wanl 
 to be pleased without effort," — Qleveland Leader. 
 
 " We like Bell Smith and Bell Smith's book. A lively, free, dashing style, she talki 
 on, and nothing is wanting but the merry laugh we know she is owner of to make Uf 
 think we are listening to a very interesting woman." — Chicago JburTtal. 
 
 " Lively, gossiping, chatting, witty, sparkling Bell Smith, we must confess four book 
 bas quite enchanted us." — 2f. Y. Day Book. 
 
 *♦ In freshness, piquancy, and delightful episodes, illastratiye of foreign life snd mas* 
 ners, they have rarely been equalled."— .S^"<iomiZ Era. 
 
J. c. derby's publications. 
 
 ''IT IS A LOY£ TALE OF THE MOST ENTEANCING KIND." 
 
 Boston Daily Traveller. 
 
 •WHO IS THE AUTHOE? WE GTTESS A LADY."-i^. Y. Li/e lUu^ratad. 
 
 ISORA'S CHILD 
 
 1 large 12mo. volume. Price $1 25. 
 
 "It !s one of those few books of its class that we have read quite through— for we found 
 it to have the requisites of a good booli, namely, the power of entertaining the reader to 
 the end of the volume. The story is not complex, but is naturally told; the characters 
 are drawn with sharp delineation and the dialogue is spirited. It is something to add, in 
 khe present deluge of bad boolcs with pleasant names, both the morals and ' ihe moral ' of 
 Uie worR are unexceptionable. It is understood to be the production of a lady whose 
 name is not unliuown to the reading public; and we congratulate her on tliejncrease ot 
 reputation wliich ' Isora's Child ' will bring her when her present incognito shall be 
 removed." — Barlington (Vt.) Sentinel. 
 
 "This book starts off with its chapter first, and introduces the reader at once to the 
 heroes and incidents of the really charming story. He will speedily find himself interested 
 AS well by the graceful style and the skill with which the different scenes are arranged, 
 as by the beauty of the two principal characters, and the lessons of loving faith, hope, and 
 patience, which will meet him at the turning of almost every leaf. This is one of the beat 
 productions of its kind that has been issued this season, and promises to meet With 
 warm approval and abundant success." — Detroit Daily Democrat. 
 
 " Another anonymous novel, and a successful one. There is more boldness and origi- 
 nality both in its conception and in its execution than in almost any work of fiction we 
 ^ave lately read. Its characters are few, well delineated, and consistently managed. 
 <here is no crowding and consequent confusion among the dramatia personam. Tiiere 
 •re two heroines, however. Flora and Cora, both bewitching creatures, and, what if 
 jetter, noble, true-hearted women, especially the former, Isora's child — the dark-eyed and 
 ,>a88ionate, but sensitive, tender, and loving daughter of Italy. The work will make it» 
 nark. VVho is the author? We guess a lady, and that this is her first book." — Weekly 
 Life Illustrated. 
 
 "Its incidents are novel and effectively managed ; and its style possesses both earnest 
 vigor and depth of pathos, relieved by occasional flashes of a pleasmg and genial humor. 
 Among the crowd of trashy publications now issued from the press, a work as true to 
 Qature, and as elevated and just in its conceptions of the pu/poses of life, as this is, is all 
 the more welcome because it is so rare. We have no doubt it will be as popular as it ii 
 interesting." — Albany Evening Journal. 
 
 " We have seldom perused a work of fiction that gave us more real pleasure than 
 this. From first to last page, it enchains the attention, and carries your sympathiea 
 along with the fortunes of the heroine. The descriptive powers of the unknown authorew 
 are of the loftiest order, and cannot fail of placing her in the first ranks of authorship.*! 
 ^Cincinnati Daily Sun. 
 
 •' A story which perpetually keeps curiosity on the alert, and as perpetually baffles ii 
 •ill it reaches its d^no&ment, is certainly a good one."^£Mfalo Commwoial Advertiser, 
 
3 C. DERBT^S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THK OREEN MOUNTAIN TRAVELLERS' 
 
 ENTERTAINMENT. 
 
 BY JOB J AH BARNES, SJCIf. 
 
 12mo. $1. 
 
 ••They will be read with earnest sympathy and heartfelt approval by all who enjojl 
 fniet pictures of the homely, yet often charming scenes of daily life. The style well 
 befits the thoughts expressed, and is equally simple and 'mpressive. We have found in 
 these pages better than a ' traveller's entertainment '—one whidi will mingle with the 
 pleasant recollections of a home fireside." — Providenoe Daily Post. 
 
 " If any of our friends wish to get hold of a book written in a style of pure and beaa* 
 tiful English, that reminds one of Irving continually ; a book rich with inventions of the 
 marvellous, and yet abounding in sweet humanities and delicate philosophies — a book 
 that will not tire and cannot offend, let them go to a bookstore and buy ' The Old Inn ; 
 or, the Travellers' Entertainment,' by Josiah Barnes, Sen. It will pay the leader well." 
 —Springfield {Mass.) Eepuhliean. 
 
 "It should be praise enough to say that tne author reminds one occasionally oi 
 iTflngy— Philadelphia BuUetin. 
 
 ♦• Unless we err greatly, a volume so markedly original in its outline and features will 
 attract a large share of attention." — Boston Evening Gazette. 
 
 " This is a very pleasant book. The plan of it, if not new, is just as well carried out 
 five 'r six 'r half-a-dozen » travellers meet at an indifferent tavern in an indifferent 
 part of Vermont, upon a seriously unpleasant day, and to pass away the dull hours, they 
 fall to story-telling. The record of their performances in that behalf is made up into tha 
 Tolume ' above entitled.' So agreeable became the diversion that not only the evening 
 of the first day, but as the following morning was conveniently stormy, the second day 
 li consunied in similar diversions. Those who read the book will agree with us, tuat a 
 itormy .-lay and a country inn, with such alleviation, presents no very great hardship to 
 ihe traveller, unless his business is particularly urgent. We commend the book to those 
 <ho like a i^casant story, pleasantly told." — Bttdget, Troy, If. T. 
 
 •• Under the above title we have several interesting stories as told by the rarloas eha* 
 
 meters at tne fireside of a comfortable, old-fashioned inn, to while away the long houn 
 
 ^ Btorm, by which they were detained The Little Dry Man's, the supposed Lawyer's, 
 
 juid the Quaker's stories are all worth listening to. They are well told and entertain the 
 
 rcAder." — Bangor Journal. 
 
 ♦• This is a series of stories, supposed to be related to while away the time, in an old 
 inn, where a party of travellers are storm-stayed, consisting of the ' Little Dry Man's 
 Story,' the 'Supposed Lawyer's Story,' 'Incidents of a Day at the Inn,' the 'Quaker's 
 Story,' and ' Ellen's Grave.' The stories are well told. There is a charming simplicity 
 in the author's style — all the more delightful, because, now-a-days, simplicity of lan- 
 guage is a rarity with authors. It is a book to take up at any moment, and occupy » 
 leisure hour — to lay aside, and take «p again and again. We commend its tone, an4 
 the object of the author. It is a pleasant companion en a country journey." — If. "M 
 Ditpatah. 
 
J. C. nKRBY S PTTBIJCATIONS. 
 
 THE LIFE AND SAYINQS OF MRS. 
 PARTINOTON, 
 
 i.ND OTHERS OF THE FAMILY. 
 ? BTB. P. SEILLABEB. 
 
 1 elegant 12mo., 43 Illusirations. Price $1 25. 
 
 ***Hang the books I' said an appreciative examiner, to whom we handed a eopy foi 
 httpection, ' I can't afford to buy them, bat I can't do without this ;' and laughirg anth 
 the tears ran, he drew forth the purchase-money. It is just so, reader ; you can't do 
 trithout this book. It is so full of genial humor and pure human nature that your wife 
 and children must have it, to be able to realize how much enjoyment may be shut up 
 within the lids of a book. It is full of human kindness, rich in humor, alive with wit, 
 mingled here and there with those faint touches of melancholy which oft-times touclk 
 Mirth's borders."— (7M»ton Courant. 
 
 " She has caused many a lip to relax from incontinent primness into the broadest kind 
 of a grin — has given to many a mind the material for an odd but not useless revery — hai 
 gcooped out many a cove on the dry shores of newspaper reading, and invited the marine* 
 Teader to tarry and refresh himself. * Ruth Partington ' is a Christian and a patriot 
 Such a book will go everywhere — ^be welcomed like a returned exile — do good, and ceas* 
 uoV^—Bvffalo Expreaa. 
 
 *• If it is true that one grows fat who laughs, then he who reads this book will fat tq> 
 even though he may be one of Pharaoh's ' lean lune.' That it does one good to laugh, 
 Dobody doubts. We have shook and shook while running through this charming volume, 
 until it has seemed as though we had increased in weight some fifty gounds, more or 
 less."- 'Massachxnetta Life Boat. 
 
 *' A reg*.ilar Yankee institution is Mrs. Partington, and well deserves the compliment of 
 a book devoted to her sayings and doings. She is here brought before the public, whicl: 
 Is so greatly indebted to her unique vocabulary for exhaustless stores of fun, in a stylo 
 worthy of her distinguished character." — If. T. Tribune. 
 
 *' There is a world of goodness in her blessed heart, as there is a universe of quiet fun 
 A the book be. e us. * A gem of purest ray serene ' glitters on almost every page. 
 Everybody shorn buy the book ; everybody, at least, who loves genial, quiet wit, whiCK 
 never wounds, but always heals where it airi^ti."— Independent Democrat. 
 
 " It is crammed full of her choicest sayings, and rings from title page to ' finis * with het 
 unconscious wit. It is just the book for one to read at odd moments — to take on the can 
 or home of an evening— or to devour In one's office of a rainy day. It is an excellent 
 antidote for the blues."— 0»«*<ia Herald. 
 
 *• Housewivoa who occasionally get belated alwut their dinner, should have it lying 
 round. It will prevent a deal of grumbling from their • lords,' by keeping them so w^S 
 •mployed as to make them forget their dinner."— .y<?M> Hampshire TOegraph. 
 
 •* Her ' sayings * have gone the world over, and given her an immortality that will gllttor 
 and sparkle among the records of genius wherever wit and humor shall be aporeciated.** 
 •~W<no4ti«r PaUadium. 7 
 
J C. DERBY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 JACK DOWNING'S NEW BOOK! 
 
 •WAY DOWN EAST; 
 
 OB, PORTRAITUEES OF TAXKEE LIFE. 
 
 BY 8EBA SMITH, ESQ. 
 
 Illustrated, 12mo. Price $1. 
 
 ** We greet the Major, after a long interval, with profound pleasure and respect. Wei 
 4« we remember how, years ago, we used to pore over liis lucubrations on the events of 
 the time — how he enlightened us by his home-views of the Legislature's doings, of the 
 Gineral's intentions, and of the plans of ambitious Uncle Joshua. Here was the ' spot of 
 his origin,' and around us were the materials from which he drew his stores of instructive 
 wit. Therefore we, of all the reading public, do the most heartily greet his reappearance. 
 We find him a little more artistic than of old, more advanced in grammar and orthography 
 but withal displaying the same intimate knowledge of Down Eastdom, and retaining the 
 same knack of genuine Yankee humor. In fact, taking all things together, no other 
 writer begins to equal him in the delineation of the live Yankee, in the points where thai 
 Individual differs from all the ' rest of mankind.' This is his great merit as an author, 
 and one which the progress of manners will still further heighten — for it is only in some 
 portions of our own State that the real Yankee can now be found. 
 
 " The present book has sixteen chapters devoted to home-stories. They are racy and 
 humorous to a high degree."— Por«<Mid Daily Ad/verUeer. 
 
 " It is now generally conceded that Seba Smith is the ablest, and at the same time th« 
 most amusing delineator of Yankee life who has hitherto attempted that humorous stylo 
 of writing — not excepting even Judge Haliburton himself. This is no rash expression, for 
 there is not a passage in ♦ Sam Slick ' so graphic, funny and and comical, but we find 
 equalled if not surpassed in the sensible and philosophic, although ludicrous epistles, of 
 ' Major Jack Downing ' — epistles of which we defy the most stupid to glance at a para- 
 graph without reading the whole."— Philadelphia N&uoa. 
 
 " This is a book of real Yankee life, giving the particulars of character and inJ .Isdents in 
 New England, from the Pilgrim fathers and their generations, Connecticut Blue Laws, and 
 the civic and religious rules, customs, Ac, from the Nutmeg State away down East, as far 
 as Mr. Jones ever thought of going. It is a very laughable affair, and every family in all 
 Yankeedom wih enjoy its ■pern&a.V^—Hingham, (Mass.) Jotimal. 
 
 " Thers are few readers who do not desire to keep up an acquaintance with the original 
 Major Jack Downing, whose peculiar humor, while it is irresistible in its effects, is nevei 
 made subservient to immorality. But these stories are an improvement on those originalljp 
 given by the author, as they are illustrative of Yankee life and character in the good ob^ 
 times of the Pilgrim Fathers." — Christian Advocate and Journal. 
 
 " The stones are the most humorous in the whole range of Yankee literature, full of 
 genuine wit, rare appreciation of fun, and giving an insight into human motive which 
 ■hows the close observation and keen relish of life, of a good-humored philonopher."— 
 Satwday Evening Mail. 
 
 ** A charmingly interesting book, this, for all who hail from Down East, or vbo !ik« to 
 read good storiea of home life among the Tankees."— iSc(J«m £tegia«f 
 
-^M^mm;. 
 
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS 
 
 WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN 
 THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY 
 WILL INCREASE TO 50 CENTS ON THE FOURTH 
 DAY AND TO $1.00 ON THE SEVENTH DAY 
 f OVERDUE. 
 
 1 
 
 APR 19 V^^^^ 
 
 
 ^,,U'56T^ 
 
 
 rrn^^l'^'iRLI 
 
 I 
 
 ^ J" Q *J "^ IJvI\' ^' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 j 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 LD 21-100m-12, '43 (8796s) 
 
M^oq^^-?? 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY