Published Every
Two Weeks.

Thayendanegea,
TH E SCOURGrE;
Or, The War-Eagle of the Molmwks.

BY NED BU NTLINE.

CHAPTER I.

“ MOTHER, I am almost a warrior now! I am
more fleet of foot than any runner in the tribe!
My arrow never misses its mark, and when
Ohanwanho lets me shoot his rifle, my aim is
yet more sure than his! I am stron ,I will soon
put my foot upon the war—path, an then I will

irove I am brave! New, hide from me no
longer the place of
my birth, or the
name of my father!
It is time that I
should know it!—
time that I should
know why we loiter
here, away from
the tribe of which
you say I should be
chief! Thereishot,
strong blood in my
veins—a big heart
beats in my breast
—I am an eagle,
and must not be
chained, or I will
«lie beating my—
self with my own
wings!”

These words were
uttered b. an In-
dian vout , whose
age might be fifteen
or sixteen—it were
hard to determine
it. at a glance, for
his form was yet
slender, though ev-
ery muscle was
well developed, and
it in its grace,
heightened by his
scanty but pic-
tu no costume,
woul have form—
ed a study for the
first sculptor in
the world. Hisfea—
tures were noble.
his eye large and
flashing, and his
thin nostrils dilat-
ed, and his veins
seemed to swell
and darken as he
spoke.

She whom he
addressed looked
young to be the
mother of such a
boy—yet the like-
nem of the two
con id not be mistak-
en. Tall, elegant-
ly i'onned, clad. in-
deed, like an In-
dian queen, she was
wry, rery beauti—
ful. And a look of
settled sorrow add-

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No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK.

“ THAYENDANEGEA !”

The mother laid her small build upon the , )onlh.

impatient youth’s shoulder, as she uttered this
word, and for a moment she looked him full in
the face, firmly, but not nnkindly. He cast his
eyes down for a moment, and then said:

“ Mother, my cars are open to your words—
your eyes go through me, as the sun pierces the
water. ’

“The first duty of a warrior is to learn pa—
tience and fortitude!" she said. slowly.

“ Yes, mother! ’l‘o bear hunger, thirst,
pain of body, all without a murmur or a
groan! These I am equal to but not, not to
this agony of mystery. To know that I am
something, and yet know not what—to feel
that I have a field of action open for me—for
me alone—yet know not where it is—to know
that you have some hidden sorrow in your

THAYENI)ANEGEA.

I

leeadlp (r- fldrnns. (Pubh'shers,

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1

ed toher dignity,-for there was pride ratherthan ! heart, and not know where to seek him who i

des ndency in it!

eystwuhnmn thebunks of La Belle Ririm-r.
the then siiwrv “bin, for the dust and stain of
commerce hm! not thenbm-n wast upon its limpid
b0mm, nor lln- limb of hmldleuvhel-ls mingled

earth With water.

placed it there!
father I“

“ lhn‘ir-d on ilnl lmnlzs of the dear, dear Mo-
hnnk. \ ln-r \x‘iwrv—J’

Again I ask—where '18 my ‘

~~1nl«li-Ill\' restrained herself, but
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 IN Ié79, BY  3‘ ADAMS‘.

'l'en Cents a. Copy.
$2.50 a Year.

“ H'hrrr _\o'i must guide me!” continued the
" 1 will stuinl beside my father‘s grave,
and tin ro learn my name—there take counsel of
his spirit, and h-nrn \\ hat a warrior’s son should
do. Mother. we mus! "o to the Mohawk!”

“ Thayx-ndnucgcu, I dare not!“

“ Mother, you are :1 3411mm!"

No pen could describe, or nci! proper] ' de-
lineate, the tone and attitu o with which hose
words were delivered. To call a nu rim- 3
squaw is the deadliest insult which can to given;
to remind a woman that she is a squnw is to
bitterly reproach her for unwomanlu wea ness.

His scornl'ul tone—low but deep and taunt-
ing; his tnming upon his heel, with arms folded
upon his breast as if he deemed it beneath him
to look 11 n her—all struck, like a thousand
serpent bites, into her ve heart, and she
pressed one hand there, as if smother the fire,

while the other was
raised, and seenan
to invoke help from
above. To add to
the strikin pic-
ture, a love y girl
—a year or more
riper in age than
the boy — came
bounding to her
side, bearing in her
hands wreaths of
ti nvers, and follow-
ed by a beautiful
fawn.
“ What is the
matter, mother!
Has Thayendane-
gea angered thee?
Forgive him, for
ONALOVA’S sake!"
and the lovely crea-
ture knelt at her
mother‘s feet, and,
drawin r away the
hand Iirom over
that aching heart
kissed it again an
a 'n.
The woman did
not look down at
her daughter: her
eye was upon the
boy, who, firm as
if he had been a
statue of bronze,
stood as first he
turned.

“ Doss it become
the son of a brave
warrior, and the fu-
ture chief of a na-
tion to insult the
mot or who gave
him life?” she said,
at last, in a voice
so low that it seem—
ed scurcelv to have
lelt her in; yet
it reached is ears
-—— his heart, too. ‘
The folded arms
were unbent, and
the flashing eyes
cast down; slowly,
as if all unwilling
to yield his
own convictions of
wron , the youth
tame toward his
mother, and, in a

“ Thayenda-negea has done Wren? He will
offend his mother no more. He wi take his
bow and go fur nwnr: and. when he has won a
warrior‘s name, he \\ ill romp bad: to her!"

He was movng oll', \\ hen his mother cried;

u _ I 71



low, sad tone, said:

 

   

2

The New York Library.

 

 

And Oualova, her long tresses flyin back
from her broad. glossy shoulders, came ound-
ing to his side, and, taking his hand, said. in a
tone reproachful, but fond :

“ Oh, brother. would you break our moth-
sr‘s heart, and leave Onnlova without a pro-
tector l’”

“Thayendanegea, you shall have our
wish l" said the mother, advancing. “ hen
the moon is full, we will start for the Valley
of the Mohawk. We must wait till then, for
we will have to travel at night, else will we
be kept back by those who have been paid to
keep us here. And we must prepare for a
march of toil and peril. Great mountains
must be climbed—deep rivers crossed—ene-
mies avoided You have forced it on me
sooner than I wished; but I have spoken, and
we will go i"

“Forgive me, my noble, ood mother. I
have been very wrong 1" an now the young
Indian, wholly softened, knelt at his mother’s
feet, and pressed her hand to his breast.

“Knee only when you whisper to the
Great Sgirit. my soul" said she, lifting him
up. “ nd now, if you have a warrior‘s
cunning. show it. Convey, at least a half
day‘s journey to the east. all the dried pro-
visions which we can carry with ease, and
hide them. It must be done in small arcels,
from time to time, when you hunt. (gnalova
and myself will make our strong moccasins
and garments for the travel while you do that
We have almost half a moon in which to get
ready. And by no look, word, or sign, betray
our intentions. Keen eyes are u n us—they
will stay us with strong arms if cy think we
would leave them."

“ Why, my mother 2"

“At a roper time, Thaycndaneges shall

know—it is not time yet. Now to our
s arts, and leave me to think and to tnl to
t e Great Spirit! 11: must guide us, or our
path is dark 1"
The (young people reverent] obeyed, and
strolls along up the bank 0 the beautiful
riVer, haud-in-hand, as they had often done
before, while his do and her fawn gambolled
ahead of them, as p ayfully as two kittens in
the sun of a June morning 1

CHAPTER II.

Sir William Johnson, king’s superintendent
of the Six Nations—in fact, of all the Indians,
under British rule, north of New York—sat in
a front room of his baronial castle—for such
it really was—situated where still exists and
flourishes the village of Johnstown, on its
1011; look-out above the Mohawk Valley.

istory has described him—to that let the
reader turn—and when the observe the
powerful sway which he be] over the In
iaiis for years, and the havoc which'he com,
mitted during our revolutionary struggle, they
will not wonder at the strange mysteries
destined to be unravelled in this romance.

He sat, as I said, in his easy chair, with his
amber-mouthed pipe between his sensual lips,
looking out on broad lands occupied b his own
tenantry, and possessing, as he did,t e power
of a monarch, if not of a despot, and the sen-
suous nature accorded to the Turk, seemed to
enjoy himself. But then his fortified house;
the arms be constant] were about his own
portly erson, and e vigilant attendance
whic 0 required of one or more servants
whom be trusted implicitly, all tended to
show that neither his wealth, war, or theii
attendant luxuries exempted him from care.

flush came over the face of Sir William.
as a tall, gray-haired, and grim-looking war-
l'or was seen rapidl striding over the lawn
award. the house. I‘qu armed, and bearing

e. insignia of a chief, the savage bore an lll‘
of im rtance.

" hat new favor can old Aroghycduks
want now!” muttered Sir William, in a tone
of discontent. “Presuming on the past, and
s fancied hold he has n a me, he asks too
much, He must cease— hns already made
me do too much l."

He had hardly closed this soliloqny. when
the tall chieftain stalked into the apartment,
and. as stifi' and erect as a rock-rooted ins
upon the hill-side, stood before him. making
a scarcel recognizable sign of respect,

- Sir William motioned his visitor toward s
seat. but the latter remained standi . Ah r
[waitingva moment to recovsr brea —-for l s
I had traveled—the Indian spoke.
'“ I have news for my brother," said he.

"It is well. M ears are open—let my

brother s ” said Sir William.

gr

 

  

 

“ The news comes from a black cloud l”
continued the Indian.

" So does the lightning. My heart is
strong, let my brother speak l" said Sir Wil-
liam, smoking calmly. and showing an indif-
ference Worthy of the Indian character. which
he always emulated, and probably thereby
gained much of his influence.

“Two ears too man l” said the Indian,
pointing to a servant of ir William‘s.

“ You can retire, Pontioch, but do not go be-
yond hearing of my whistle ; and tell Malcom
to be ready for the hunt of which I spoke I" said
the baronet. whose last words were precau-
tionary, and such as he knew Malcom, the
chief of his bod -guard, would understand.
The truth was, t at he did not like the ex-

ression upon the chieftain’s face, and saw that
he latter was much excited, though he strove
to hide it

When the servant was gone, the Indian,
afl’er looking around, and seeing that no listen-
crs were near the windows, turned and said :

“ A bird has brought me news from the
Miamis l"

The baronet started slightly, but instantly
was as calm as before.

“ My ears are open l" said he.

“ Dyagetto and her children are no longer
with the Miamis!" continued the chief, look-
ing at the baronet closely,to note the effect of
the news. But the latter, new full on his
guard, exhibited no feeling, even i he had
cause to do so.

“ They have come toward the sunrise l”
continued the Indian.

Sir William smoked on, as if the matter in
no way affected him.

The Indian now showed signs of impa-
tience, or rather of annoyance, and said,
quickly:

“ M brother says nothin l”

“ ve two ears and
When my brother is done, I will s k l“

“ Does this news please my brot er?”

“ What is, is! If the Miamis have slept, it
has not been with 1» eyes!" said the baronet.

“ Will my brother at them live if they come
In his fort l’"

“I do not murder women and children."

“ The boy will soon be a warrior. If he
learns his rights—”

“ Your power will be in danger i” added the
baronet. concluding the words the chief had
sommenced.

"Yes; but I care not for myself. I have a
son who will be a t brave."

“Then let him and the son of Dvagetto
battle for the place."

“ fine my brother no interest in the matter 9
Does he forget I had a daughter, and that she
slee s in her rave f"

“ o, Arog i adecka, I do not; and, if I did,
you never won d let me be long in forgetfhh
ncss," cried the baron_et. now losing his tem-

r. “But were she a thousand times your

aughter, and had she been a thousand times
as beautiful, her price has been paid, and over-
paid. Mark ou, I have home for her sake,
and your fee ings, all that I will bear. A
brave chief was sacrificed to make way for
you; his family were banished. Every wish
you have ever s oken to me has been grati-

ed ; but now I ave done. The more I give,
the more you ask. You get no more."

“ My brother ts an y, like 'a squaw.
Igtfihun be care ul, or c'llbits his tongue
0 .

Sir William made no reply; but, resuming
his seat again, lighted his pipe, after refilling
it, and paid no further attention to the Indian,
who stood regarding him with a look of
hatred that would have made most men uail.
After a short pause, he took a silver w istle
from his vest, and blew 'a sharp note. In an
instant the ac servant was by his side.

“ Pontioch, ring me one glass, and a bottle
of brandy." said he.

The servant entered the next room, and in a
few moments rea peered, bearing a bottle of
brandy and a sing c glass upon a silver salver.

The baronet poured out the sparkling fire-
water,‘ more prised than all else by the red
men of that day—and, alas! for them, even in
this—and diluting it with iced water from a
silver pitcher on a table within his reach, he
drank it of.

He could not more deeply have insulted or
wounded the Indian chief than b that act.

The latter stood one moment, aniIthen said:
“ The pale-faced chief has drunk his own
blood l When the chief of the Mohawks has
made his nest secure for his own eagle, then

ut one tongue! ‘

 

he'll come a sin!"

As he sai this, he turned abruptly on his
heel, and left the house.

“Pontioch. tell Malcom to come here l"
said the baronet. calmly, for he now had en-
tire] re ained his composure.

“ e are not expose the secret of 0 ahtee‘s
death; and Dyagette dare not break t e oath
she took when I s ared her son. I am safe,
but this old repti e must be watched. He
means to destroy them. He shall not. That
Dyagetto was a handsome woman when she
went awa . She ma not have faded not."

The so iloquy of t e baronet was roken
in by the entrance of the person for whom
he sent.

“ Malcom, you saw the Mohawk chief that
just left the house 9"

“ I did, Sir William.”

“ Have a watch kept on all his movements
Double our at night, and then your
self take four or hvc men, and start, as it on
a hunting ex edition. Cross the river, and
scout up and own, watching him the while,
or any party of Mohawks over the river; and
if you fall in with a woman who answers to
the name of Dyagetto, with two children
with her, bring her to m( safely. She speaks
English almost as well as her own tongue:
was taught in my school here.”

The soldier’s only ric‘ply was the military
salute. He had his 0 ers, and departed to
fulfill them. And those men who say little
are the very ones who will fulfill orders,
though a thousand erils stand in the way.

“ Send Mr. 0‘ hackem here, Pontioch.
Tell him to bring his school report with him,”
said the baronet, again starting his pipe into
action.

In a short time, an individual appeared,
who, as Sir William's schoolmaster, deserves a
brief description His small, fiery, gm eye,
thick lips, and wide mouth, so open t at it
constantl revealed a con la of rows of masti-
eators, w ich looked as if capable almost of
any duty, from the hashing up of boarding-
house steak to the shortening of ten nny
nails, and a nose, heavenWard pointin its as.
pirations, at once revealed his derivation. It
was from the south of Ireland. His forehead
—what there was of it—was drawn into per-

ndicular furrows, he had so lon been in
the habit of wearing afrown of pe antic dig-
nity thereon. Over this, red and bristly,

intin in all directions, rose his short. coarse
air. neckcloth, which urported to be
white, but was nearly tan-co or, was swathed
tightly around about three inches length of
neck, which seemed strong enough to support
twenty such heads as his The (out ensemble
of his head was bull-dogish. His long arms,
lean body, and long legs, his large feet and
hands, conveyed an idea that he was better
titted for manual than mental labor; but in
those days a teacher generally took plenty of
exercise, trying the “ bottom" of many a
youn ster, who strove to run out of gear.
“ ow goes your school 9" asked thebaronet.
“Much in the cold wa , Sir William,’: re-
lied the pcdant. with a ourish of his ri ht
hand—his left was laced on the small of is
back, so as to lilt t c in ortaut and lengthy
tails of his brass-button coat out sta digni-
fied distance from that portion of the body
which, through his bircth scholars, he
seemed to have an aversion for. " Haythen
will be haythen, and Injuns and nsgcrs will be
what they were born. in spite‘o hating or
hilosophy. Here is the wake y report, .31?
William. Some of 'em. ye'll see. are ra-
rovin’ forward, and others are improvin’
kw ."

The baronct took the paper, glanced at it,

then laid it on the table, and called his scr-

"It.

«M60013, brandy and two glasses."

The schoolmaster evidently was in favor.
While the servant was one, Sir William said:

“ Were you to use a ittle more moral susv
sion, and less corporeal punishment, do on
not think the youn ters would like you {et-
tcr, sudden-n more?’

. “ Divil the bit, asking yer pardon, Sir Wil-
liam, for the irriverent expression. Bun
doesn’t the Bible, or some other book.
say, ' Spare the rod, and ruin the child 1' Not
hke my own countrymen, the more on W
'em, the more they like is W‘
knowledge into 'em. 'twonhi
in’ love to a party girl
wall, where you couldn’t
her breath. When I la '

   
 
 
 
 

    
     
    
  
   
  

 

 

 

 

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Tgliayendanegea, the Scourge. 3

 

'l‘hc baronet smiled at this opinion vei'y
earnestly given by Mr. Flood, and then he
imilmi again, for the brandy was at hand. In
the last he was assisted b the schoolmaater,
who seemed quite pleased with the service,
and took the hammer part of the labor on
himself.

“ Where is Guy and my son John?” asked
the baronet of his servant, after he had dis-
missed the important Mi O‘Whackem

-‘ Gone to de Soc-en-dog' a fishin’, sah l"

“Ver well When they return, tell them
I woul like to see them i"

“ Yes, nah i"

“And now I do not wish to be disturbed
by any visitors—remember!"

The negro nodded and left the room, to re-
ieain near the door until again called by the
whistle of his master.

CHAPTER III.

For five weary weeks, traveling mostly at
night. and taking a devious course to avoid

nrsuit, "the noble Dyngetto had led her chil-

ren eastward from the Ohio. Onalova,
though slight in figure, had borne the fati rue
bravely, and Thayendanege) had improve in
strength and muscle ever duly. And it seem-
ed, as he approached t e city hills which
walled in his native valley, as if he grew in
stature; for his elastic form heightened, he
held his head more proudly, the respiration
came more freely from his full breast.

There must be somethin in our native air
which ever makes itself nown within us,
when we approach our birth-place. As I de-
scribe, so have I felt.

At last they stood upon the crest of a bill
which overlooked the valley.

“See!” said Dyrgetto, pointing downward
to what seemed a stream of liquid, rushing

' 'l'hc Bacondan River, risin In the mountains in
Hamilton county and emptying ate the Hudson.

gold, for the red sun was throwin r its lastlin-
gering rays upon iii—“The Mohaw —childrea,
the valley of your birth l"

The e es of Onalovs glittered with plea-
sure as t my run over as beautiful a landscape
asever charmed the mortal vision—a variety
of hill and dale, and level plain, threaded by
hundreds of shining rivulets, all rushing to
the arms if the larger stream, which was to
bear them to the oblivious ocean. And this,
too, clad in the lively green and flowery sheen
of “ leafy June," now softened in the mellow
of the coming sunset, was very lovely.

But the eagle eye of Tliayendanegea rested
not on these beauties; it wandered to and
fro restlessly, and he said at last:

“Can We see none of the villa
tribe? Where do the warriors dw if”

" We will seek them when another do be-
gins." replied his mother, quietly. ‘i Fin a fit
camping-place, my son, and we will rest, so
that we may be strong when once more we
stand among our peo is. But, remember, you
must hint no wo of your rights or my
wron , until I have consented l" ‘
ha 'endanegea has promised !" replied
the youth.

A little way down the hill-side, close by a
gushing stream, there was a moss spot, corp.
pletely overhung by a preci ice_ 0 white, dry
rock. it was fringed aroun with small bash-
es, and was admirably adapted for a camping-

lace.

P Here the party laid down their packs, which
were not heav now, for their provisions were
nearly out. pheasant flew up as‘they .sp-
prosched the spot, and alighting on the hmb
a small birch. some fift or sixty yards of,
seemed to recounoitcn t e roceedings. An
arrow from Thayendsnegeas bow in a mo-
ment put an end to his troubles, and while the
youn hunter gathered fuel, and with flint and
steel ghted a fire. his mother prepared the
bird for supper.

Before the darkness came on, the ho also
gathered soft branches for beds, and built it
a little screen around his mother and sisters
retiring lace, and then, with a cheerful fire
blazing fore them, and a nice, broiled par-
:ridgc and dried venison. and parched corn,
that lonely family sup as well, and prob-
sbl ' with 'a Pattern petite, than will many a
“he: ' '1 ' this work after he has per.
 incite  '1 w » '

' Having rep enishcd his fuel. sons to keep the
I.;I. M 'r.‘-"1L. , ‘. - .

of my

 

 

fire up all ni ht, Thayendniiegea received
the blessing of his mother, and then laid down,
with his feet to the fire, in front of the cam
—his bow by his side,and his tomahawk in his
hand, ready to use at a moment‘s warning. He
was soon asleep, for he was ver weary. They
had marched a lon way that sy. not resting
from the start, for is mother had hoped to
reach the Mohawk by n' ht. -

And now. all was s ' except the lulling
murmur of the little sprin , the rustling m
the breeze,“ it softly passed; through the new
leaved branches. And the stars seemed asleep.
may lay so quietin the cloudless sky

hayendanegea slept and dreame ~dreamed
that he was a mighty chief — that the eagle
coronet of a great rave was on his head.
and that a thousand warriors waited for his but
tle-cr '. His form seemed taller than the high-
est 0 them all, his eye the brightest. And he
saw his loved mother robed sea Forest Queen
—his beautiful sister, by her side,.looking more
lovely than ever.

The dream was sweet, but, ahl too brief!
It changed; he thought that he had been taken
prisoner by a band of enemies, and was dea-
tined for the torture. And he nerved his soul
to meet it, as the son of a warrior should—
to sing his death-song and show his tortures,
that neither soul or body could be conquered
until one had sped to the spirit-land, and the
other had been consumed. But his mother
and sister again appeared upon the scene, and
their screams of agony pierced his very heart,

Heavens! It was no dream -a rough hand
touched his form, and he sprung to his feet, to
hear the screams in reality, and to find him-
self in the strong hands of two in warriors,
from whose grasp he tried in vain to tear him-
self. By the light of the dawning day, he
could see that his mother and sister, too were
captives. But why, when they were so near
their own tribe, was his per lexity. Bui-
he asked no question—he waits to be spoken
to. tliongh his swelling veins and flashing eyes
told what he would do, were be for a moment
free, great as were the odds against him, for
the warriors were six in number.

“ Why has Dyagptto left the land of the
Susana ” at last as ed the grim leader of the

an .

“ It was not the home of her fathers—her
heart was weary of dwelling with the stranger
her eyes ached to look upon her kindred, an
she chose to come i” replied the woman,
hsu litily.

“ new on not that birds were swift-
winged, an would be here before you, to tell
that your word was broken. and that you
would r meet’a river you could not cross, a
mountain you could not climb f”

" That bird is a lying one, and flies only
from our lips l”

“ oman, you hasten your death, if you
brave incl”

“ I know it—I can disbut once. You are
used to murder f”

The warrior’s eyes glesmed with a ferocity
that threatened instant death, as he placed his
hand upon his knife, and ate d toward her
but he restrained himself an turned toward
her son. For a few moments, he eyed him
sternly, but a look more haughty than hi
own met his glance.

“ What are you f" he finally asked. '

The squats who creeps u on women and
children when they are sleep g, deserves no
answer from the son of a warrior P” was the
bold reply.

In an instant, the tomahawk of the Hohawk
chief littered in his hand, and the brave oath
woul never have spoken again, had no help
been near.

“ Hold on there—if yc’d not have an ounce
of lead in your old carcass i” cried a voice, as
the steel-bearing hand was raised' , and at the
same moment alcoin, with six of Sir Wil-
liam‘s Hi hlanders, a pesrcd on the scene,
well arm and ready r action.

“Why does the pale-face interfere with my
business i" asked the chief, haughtily. _

“ Because, in the first place, you were about
doing a most cowardly deed ; in the next place,
you are interfering with fnl travelers,
and, thirdly and lastly, as the preacher says,
because I choose to. So take yourself and
your painted gang away from here, or I’ll give

on a better reason still for gain i"

As he said this, Malcoin touc ied the keen
hanger by his side, and motioned his men to
close up.

“ These are my prisoners i” said the chief,

doggedly.

 

5 n

“Then come to Sir William Johnson for
them—he sent me to brin them to him—let
that youngster go i" and he eveled his gun at
one of the warriors who held the youth.

The Indians started back, for they did not
like the muzzle of a cooked musket so close to
their breasts. The chief saw that he was
over owered, and sullealy called his men off.

“ ell the pals-faced chief that there is a
cloud between him and the chief of the Mo-
hawks i" said the latter, fiercely, as he do-
scended the hill-side.

“ A cloud of smoke and a (aunt of whiskey
will drive it out of sight l" sai Malcom, whose
opinion of the Indian character was by no
means elevated.

He now told Dyagetto that she was safe.
and that Sir William, hearing of her coming.
had sent him to look for and protect her.
Giving her and her children food from his
own well-stored haversack, after a brief delay.
he started at a rapid pace to rcoross the river,
not liking to give the Mohawk chief too good
s chance to rally Inca and intercept him; for
Malcuiu had “served " on the other side of
the water, and knew that one of the best
qualities of a soldier is caution.

CHAPTER IV.

Sir William Johnson was at dinner. On one
band sst his nephew, Guy Johnson, afterward
his son-in-law; on the other, his son John,
both young men. full of life and adventure. and
as dissipated as young’Gmen of rank and means
think it necessary to .

An En lishman would as soon think of

eating gar ic soup as to sit at a table where .

there was not a round of roast beef. This
dish was on the baronet's table, but there was
also salmon, trout, wild ducks, geese, turkeys,
pnrtridges, chuails, venison, etc., for he was
quite a fasti ions gourmand, and beside, his
was an open table, and guests were entertained
every day. There were several on this occa-
sion, but none worthy of particular note.
Latferty, his secrets , sat ill-Mil with Mr.
Flood; his physician, aly, an ancestor of Pat
Dal , sat a little further toward the head of
the ward. Attentivc servants won at hand
to supply every want.

The solid art of the repeat was finished,
and only Sir illi'am and his son and nephew
remained over their wine, when Pontioch came
in. and, in a low tons, communicated some-
thin to his master.

“ t them be brought in at once i” said the
latter. “ I will see them here.”

The servant withdrew, but soon returned
with Malcom and Dyagetto and her children.

The mother had-carefully arranged their
toilet,“ well as her own, so that in thir
native comeliness they showed but little 0. me
stain of travel. I

hA lEntirninr of pleased wonder broke flora
t s

look at the ma iflccnt p. their ca:
wandering from s ms beauties of
mother to those blossoming in the dough-

ter, and gills: ted e erect an: warrior-form of
can an ace w om no ressncs
{scmcgd to agas , “who seemed everywhere
tofeel that belied no superior; that.“
re alblood rsninhlsvcins.
advanced with her ehildm her
side. until within a few feet of BirWi m.
ts‘nd than pod, waiting to be spoken to. At
rst s
but when histoonrdent gsse seemed to seen
her formahs no her eyes. and the hired
roscto hsrehss and darkencdtheirrleh

‘Pthccm, you found myfi-lsadi" said

the baronct. A -
“ Just in timgito vagi'lsuthe s-knot of that
on man, r I sin. a your
drddi-‘i, I kept trace of the old m5, who
smelt them out before me, and . when he
thought he had his game set, I stepped in and
drewthstruln ontofhis hand! ' -
“ And took e ‘honors,’ my hrsvsfsflsw
I‘ll hear your entire rs 41’s,“ in,
lib . I must choc the

even if! have toieaveavscsucy ‘3 m.

.hisflslncliipofthc trith" i »
“Theron ouldbsaovacancywhilsthssca
d0 techvssP’said lnatoaesl
calm gnity,hntsolowthstonl hshsardtt.

“MwomanWssidSirW ' stern»

.~~

of the younger Johnson, as they

looked him boldly in the eye, '

‘ AA

 

. v.-.“ i.

. . _....4—~-

4: The New York Library.

 

though in: stunted, and tur~ed pale when she
uttered the name. “ He must not be spoken
of, at least for the present l”

“Yet he speaks to me from his bloody
grave, and bids me demand justice for his
son—for 1n boy i" said the woman, boldly,
and her dark eye flushed, and her form seemed
to-swell to a rouder height when she spoke.

“Enough, vegetto; no more, until I see
you alone i" said he, speaking to her in her
own tongue.

She bowed her head and was silent.

“ What a noble-looking boy 3 he seems born
for a warrior l" said Guy Johnson, as he look-
ed at The 'cndsnegea.

“ But iow very beautiful is his sister!”
said John Johnson, whose admiring eye was
fixed upon her.

And she, too, was gazin upon him, but it
was in wonder, for he was ressed very richly,
withal was handsome. and she never before
had seen a being beside her brother, who
looked so noble as he did. She did not con-
strue his ardent gaze in the manner which one
who knew of the world and its ways would;
therefore her eyes were not cast down, nor did
a blush rise to express emotions of anger or of
mortification.

But Dyagetto saw the look, divined his
thoughts, and quickly said:

“ We will retire, my children ; 'when Sir
William wishes to see me, he can send for me 1"

“See to their comfort, Malcom," said the
botanist; “ have rooms assi ned them, and tell
the steward to see that ey are refreshed.
Andlseep a uard about, not upon them, but
for thch '11s old Mimawk chief is crafty
and dangerous 1"

The soldier's salute was his only reply, as
he turned upon his heel and left the room,
followed by the Indian woman and her chil-

dren ,
,“That bo stepsas proudly as a king,”
said Guy, as hayendane ea strode awa .
"There is king] bloc in his veins l’ said
Sir William, but e did not speak of them
again during the course of the meal.

_ CHAPTER V.

Foiled. in his intentions against etto
and her children, by the o fortungyatgival
and action of .Malcom, the ol) Mohawk chief
sullenly returned to his village. It was on
the banks of the rushing stream which bore
the name .of his tribe, nestled in amid gentle
slopes which were covered withcorn, melons,
spa, sud,fow,.to look upon thaneat houses, the
tasteful enclosures, the well-laden fruit trees,
would have deemed that none but savages
dwelled there. This proved that the red;mdn
could mutate the pale-fasciathcprocn cm nt'
“comforts—alas, that becauso .readii ,
imimte the vices of the white man; f4. r, physi
sally, he is far the noblest of the two.

,thn he arr-iced, be dismissed thc._warriors,
w had been with him, with a cautionto be
silent about the occurrences of the morning,
and then sent for his son, a warrior almost in
age, if not in action, for he was at least five

an the senior of Thayendauegea. He was
all and powerful inappearance. yet there was,
no true nobility in his appearance. for the ex-
pression of his countenance told of a low: and
crafty nature. of a disposition lackifig open
09,; gs,manliness, andgcnerosity. , is dress
ndxent of ornament. and, his, WNW-bout a
scar. and ornamented weapons \vitbou marks I
of,uss,.bld.as muchof his character as could
ductile in half a chapter. p , . v .

t “ Ipisicc,” said the old .clusf,as, is son an-
tcrcd his lodge, from whichhc "sent out.
the women previously, gawk“ 

30'" “bl. moon to - 9PM. 1‘ '
Si-Jounds, who will ii; a chief in my stead f who
baths head manof, e Mohawks 9’.’ .y .
.“Wh does my fither ,ask 9” replied the.
nag ndian. “Who but Ipisieo will then.
chief?” ., .  V .

. “Another ms claim the place 1’” -

“But he will have uni-fight. I am than-on!”

.y Yet another lives who will shim t his
right is utterithsn that of Ipaiso iii, , i

..s‘ The Mohawks Will not listen to him!" .

93‘“ hisstory.  told. goes to the Mom
hawks‘ ears. the w: know him as chief. and
bidJ ' 'co hide is head!"

“ llQil he? Hcmustdien’

-“ Ipisico now speak! like a warrior! In:
him as: as such! Yes, the be who would
fill the plans of Ipisico, must die, and Ipisico

 

must slay him !"

“ Yes, where does he sleep l" said Ipisico,
eagerly.

“ Would you fear to slay him, were be
awake and standing before you 1’" asked the
old chief, with a touch of sarcasm in his tone

“ Oh, no l Ipisico knows no fear 1" said the
young Indian, and even as he spoke, he glanced
quickl around, as if he feared some one would
hear his boast. “ Where is this pretender 1’”

“ In the castle of the great ale face, to
tested under his wing!” replie the old c ief

“ Who is he 1’”

“ The son of Ogahtec, whose place I fill l"

“ My father dreams. Ogahtee’s sou died
with his father—so all the tribe know I"

“ Not so—a woman’s prayers saved his life
He is the tree across thy path 1" ,

“ Which I will cut away I" said Ipisico, in
a bitter tone, for he had too long1 and im-

tiently looked for the day when e should
b: chief, to be willing to lose it without a
struggle, coward even though he was by
nature.

“ Yes, it must be done, and by thy hand
But not yet—it must be a work of time and
cars. Yesterday, I quarreled with the great

stale-faced ciief for thee. To-day I must makc~

uarrel smooth, for he has too much strength
or me, and the cunning of the fox must meet
the strength of the bear. I isico must go with

me to the castle, for] shal ask the great chief .

to make Ipisico wise in his school, and we will
yet be too wise for him!”

“ What my father says is good, but I do
not like the school of the pale- ace 1" c

“ Nor yet that of the hunter, or the warrior!"
said the oldchief, gloomily. “ When I was of
th age, there were seal a at my belt, and my
fat ers lodge was full 0 game '

The young Indian made no reply, but looked
sullanly down upon the round, for the rcbuks
to convc ad was merits '

The 0 chief gazed at him for a moment,
‘xd then said:

“ You are my son—4n}! blood is in your

veins— on have a strong heart, but it has
been as eep i Let it wake up, and you shall
yet he a great brave, and a mighty chief!"
_ “ The cars of Ipisicc are open—his eyes
shall see the nth. his father marks out for
him, and his East shall not leave it f" replied
the oung Indian.

“It is well i Make ready to go to the
castle ofthc pale-faced c ‘cf 1

l . OHAHP'I'ER, VI. . I
' smi- hc had dined._and learned that the no-
sessities of Dyggetto and l or family had been
properly a'tten ed to, Sir \ illiain sent for im-
become to his library. for he Wished £0,001:-
‘vsrss with her alone. But a few moments
elapsed pfterhswhsd sent the summons before
she appeared, much im roved,,too;l for‘with,
that natural,,siid notch, meablepridc whi [1'
seems an inherent part of woman-nature.) s,
had taken the first opportunity to renovate her
toilet. and make herself aslook-st-ablc as pos-
siblc.’ Not from vanity or coquetry on her
part, she was above that, but ‘fi'oman innate
sense ‘of decency which her intercourse” with,
the whites had increased rather than, lessened.
Sir William, whom history recordass a
sensualist‘of the most immoderctcklmi. looked
with as eager-eye a aneauties fully matured,
ct not lessens b an s, when she'sntered ;
at, er. cold ,an hang ‘ ty. look chilled the
war ii of flattery, which he was; about to utter.
and hctgmply pointed to a chair, and bade her
be .

sea . .
, “H hat does. c at chief wish with Dy-
 ?”she milled}: she took her seat.
yrs, ask you whyyou led the thiamisf
why cams. hers, where you knew you we (I
msetdnu‘gcr to‘yo‘urselfvand children", _
“Is the great chief of the pals-faces my
Mango): myrcnem f" she asks .
" our friend. V y do you ask I"
.“ Because if In is my friend, he is powerful,
and I shoald‘fcarno other local" * .
“ Not 'Arogiys'dcokarahs Mohawkfihigfl"
“ Not even ,the, nu; V srcr of my husband

> and the use“ rofhis lacs. whom, even
have protectrgd—you 3110 have fed in ydigf
his

husband’swi wam, and slept while he watc
over yonl, on asked me why I came bash

from the Miamis? It was to look once mors .

upon the rave of my husband, to see the
paths whic I trod in my childhood—to drink
of the cool waters of m birth-plach Ts_
bring my children here, w are you might scs

 

them, and when I laid down beside my Ognh
tee, as soon I shall, that you might be Just
and protect them who were without father or
mother!“

Sir William seemed stran ely affected while
the noble Indian woman spo e in a tone of im-
passionsd earnestness. After some moments
of a itation, he spoke:

“ yagetto, you have been decfply wronged—-
I have been a party to much 0 your wrong;
but policy and circumstances drove me to
much which I would recall, were it possible.
But you have come to me for justice and ‘pro-
tection. Thelast you shall have, and the rst,
so far as it is in my poweryto render!"

“ Shall Thayendanegea fill the place .of
his father, and shall the seals of that father's
murderer dangle from his,lo ge—pold’f “lied
the woman, e erly, asking, mother-hke, all
for her son, an nothing for herself. _

“In time he shall know that he is chief of
the Mohawks, and the tribe shall know it. find
then, if he becomes the warrior which his looks
now romise—-” .

, “ c has the soul of O htee—his heart. is
big, and he is brave i" said the proud mother.

“ Then heshall have my, aid to place him
where his brave father stood—my lid '40
avenge Ogahtec's death I" .

The haughty pride of the Indian woman
melted in‘ a moment, and fears sparkled in her

eat black 9 es, while she threw herself upon

er knees be ore the baronet, and pressed in]
hands to her ii at '

“D a etto t anks the great chief for his
promise ” she said, in broken accents, for she
was sobbing with joy.

Sir William lifted her up, and bads her be
seated again. ‘

“The time for this has not yet some l” he
continued, “ nor , ,must Thaysndsnegea yet
know who or what he is. I do not_yet ab-
solvc you from our (promised sscrcsyy {9?
he must be e nests and prepared hr his

ition. I will confide in Dyagetto, for I
mw that she is good and wise—she will not
a eak to other cars what I give to hor'l
albne l” _

“ A chain is upon Dysgetto’s tongue when
the great chief wills it I” replied the ’woman.

“Then I will speak. The colonies, begin-
ning to feel their strengtharcslresd almost
in open rebellion against our. father, 0 king.
beyond the “as. war is almost certain. a
war in which they will strive, busstri‘s in
vain, for independence. Manywill be loyal.
and the king has many war 'crswhoin he
will send over to crush the re allies. and to
aid those who are loyal. I know that my red
brothers will fight for thc king, for he is rich
and great, and will make them many presents ;
and the colonies are. poor, and cannot do it.
And, in such a war, the chief ofthc. Mohawks,
tbsfirst tribe of the Six; Nations, will be. a
great manl. It. is In .wuhthat ,Thayonda-
sages should learn we 1 the language and the
arts of the white man, for a reat‘path is be-
fore him, and I will put his et upon it! Is
Dyagetto willing that her children should rc-
main in in family, and be treated as my M
are trss 2"x _

The Indian woman. lookedhiin steadily in
the face for some moments before she rep red.
as if she would read the inmost thoughts of
his soul, and theashc said :.  .

“ Dyagetto is ,willi the words of the
great chief are good in or cars l"

“ And Dyagetto, too, will make. her home
beneath‘my, root", , , ,.

“ Dyagetto would live with hefilpcoplc, and
be free togo and come as she w' I” replied
the woman. .

“, She. shall have .her wish." said Sir Wil-
liam. “And, now, let Dyagctto go andtcll
Thsysndsnegca to, come here, .for I would
ital]; to, him, and put hope and wisdom in his

0 . , ,
. he Indian woman bowed her head, and
left, the room. , _
g“,ch far, so good 1" said Sir William, when
he was alone. “I wish old Aroghyadccka
washoutof the way.  son is not to bc
1 ,,but ,rtgvisrtiaades  I?“ the
0 man is'cr. y, an ' 9. , , popu-
lar With hi- pepplm. If horsemen won.
only‘, slew years olden». mi in he strayk.
by, is own hand, ,7h16ll, while _' placed»!!!
“the hesiofhistubezwosld st assassin
hi to the. I ight of popularity‘vwith Mm): ,,

, . c 10 “1..  . Io, . . .
ruptcd by the entrance of gm. , .
cf,whomhis spoke... . I , ,0 in“ I

Advancing proudly, with a it'sp st on!

..._w_.

 _ T.___.___ fi._.~_

 

“‘5.

4 ~ 1a.. __ _-_~ .

.4. .

Tnayendanegea, the Scourge. 5

 

 

hold and free,a figure erect as a pine deep- I
t

rooted in its native soil, and an eye as brig
as that of the untamed eagle, Tliayendancgea
was an object calculated to elicit admiration
from any one capable of appreciating manly
beauty in one so young

“ y mother bade me come to the great
chief. I am here!" said the you warrior,
standing in an attitude of respect efcre the
baronet.

“ It is well, Thayendanegea," said Sir
William. “ I sent for you to say that, hence-
forward, you are to dwell with me, and I will
be to you as a father.”

“ A atlic- I" said the onug Indian, quickly
—" a slim Did you know my father V"

“I did; andI hope yet to see his son like
him—a great warrior."

“ Who was lie?" asked Thayendsnegca

abru tly. -
“ lien a re er time comes, you shall
know; but,'tiil en, ask no livin being a

guestion about him, nor breathe is name.
t is my command." '

“ I cannot speak his name, for it has been
hidden from me l”‘said the youth, sadly.

“ You shall know it, I repeat, at a proper

riod," said the baronet. “In the meantime,

patient and studious, and- prepare to be

rent in the council and on the war- th.

Ilemember that a great chief has adopts you
as a son."

“ Thsyendsnegea will not forget," said the

ung warrior.

At that instant, the door of Sir William’s
room was opened without a knock, or'any
cereéncny, and Aroghyadccka and Ipisico en-
terc .

A frown gathered, like a thunder-cloud,
dark and ominous, upon the brow of the
Englishman, and bitter words were rising to
his lips; but, when he saw that the old Mo-
hawk chief wore a look of deep humility, in-
stead of his usual defiant expression, and bore
a present of very valuable furs, in token of a
Wish to make peace—as did his son, also—he
restrained himself, and waited for an explana-
tion of the visit with his usual stoical com
posure.

But the e es of oung Thayendanegea
almost flashc fire, as c recognized his ca itor
of that morning and the insultcr of his mot er,
and it needed a look and sign of caution from
Sir William to make him restrain himself.

The old Mohawk and his son advanced in
silence. and laid their presents at the, feet of
Sir William, and then retired a few steps, with
their eyes down-cast, and their looks espres-
sive of sorrow.

The baronet did not touch the presents,
but, with a stern look, regarding them for a
time in silence, and then said :

“ Why is the chief of the Mohawks here.
after his words of insult yesterday? Does he
think that I am a woman, whose memo of
wrong can be hushed bya word, or driven
away by a re entsnt look 1’"

“ Are hy , ecka was a fooll He has eaten
his wori‘ls. His heart is heavy, for he was
wrong. Theanger of the great chief is like a
cloud upon his spirit, and s has brought him
presents to ask him to lift off the cloud, for it is
very dark in the path of Aroghyadeokal H.
has brou ht his only son, Ipisico, to the‘great
chief, to e a surety that he will do wrong no
more. Let the great chief put him in his
school, or make him liuntandfish for him,
for I pisico will do his bidding," was the Mo-
hawk‘s re ly.

Sir Wil him was at a loss to know what
this unusual and unexpected humility meant
flu.- knew enough of the Indian character to.
be aware that it was not real, but was assumed
for some urposc. but for what, was beyond
his immediiito comprehension To refuse the
presents. of the crafty chief, and the offer of.

is son, as a security for his own good

hnviour, would have been to place it beyond
his power to detect the intentions of the old
fascal. and he determined to acoe them.

Chat some evil was'meant toward yagetto
and her family he was confident. and tho
Ithought occurred to him that it would be all
the better if he had I isioo‘ender his own eye,
and in his power. erefore. after appearing
to deliberate with serious thought 'for a tune,
at said : - .

“ I will take away the cloud from before my
red I brother, and “receivc‘ his .vpresents. '
my red brother must walk upon a straight
path ‘hsrssfur; one] will- ncvsr touch his hand
sgsiartelpisicoxmaygcrshd‘ walk with‘ths son
when} I have adopted, and I will smoke a

 

pi e with my brother.” And the baronet
painted to Tlinyendancgea.as the son whom
is had adopted,

The eye of the latter flashed. as Ipisico
turned toward him to obey the direction of
the baronet. . 1

“ Tlic eagle will not mate with the crow l'l
he said, bitterly, and turning upon his heel, he
left the room, not, however, until he had cast
a witlierin glance of hate upon Arogliya-
decka and iis son. '

The latter seemed fairly to quail and shrink
under the piercing glance, but his father's
snake-like eye emitted a deadly gleam, and,
his sinewy frame quivered with an anger,
which he could scarcely suppress.

“ Every inch a wardoh%&hhe lives
again in him!" muttered Sir illinm. in a
tone rather of admiration than displeasure—
one, too. which reached the ears of the old

chief, though not intended for them. “The ,

boy has a will, which only time and dis»
eipline' will check—let Ipisico go to the next
room and sit down while we talk 1" said the
baronet to the old chief.

And when the young Indian had left, Sir
William rung for his servant, and ordered
pi es and brandy for two.

' fter the articles came, a glass of friend.
ship drunk, and the pipes were lighted, the,
baronet said ' »

“ My brother was rash when he thou ht to
take the lives of the wife and children  ah-
tee. Had he murdered them, I would ave.
han ed him like a dog 1"

“ was a fool and walked in the darkl" rc-
plied the chief. _ .

“ Beware, and let it not occur again i" said
the baronet. “They are under my protec-,
tion. 'I‘liaycndanegea, as yet, knows not of.
his father‘s name, or fate, or his own rights—
wili not, unless you attempt to injure him;
than he and the tribe shall know alL Dya-'
getto must be left in peace, and she will bel
silent. Let her come and go when and where.
she will, without hindrance, and her tongue
will be still, even though her tears fall, and
ier heart is heavy above the grave of Ogahtee.
I will let Thayendanegea and Ipisico grow
up together, learn the same lessons. take
the same exercises, and when you die, if 1 yet.
live, he who proves the most worthy, shall be-
the next chief of the Mohawks. I have
spoken l”

“ The words of my brother, the‘great chief,
arcgood,snd my ears are opened wi stameivc,
them. and I have swept awa" a plnce in my;
hesrtto kee them, in. My reast~shall be
clean towar my brother, and I thank him that,
he has blown away‘thc cloud of his anger:
The son of Ogslitee will be a great brave—co
will be Ipisico, ifhe listens to the teachings
of my brother. If he will not, let him be}a
slave, and work with the squaws, for 1 will
not know him." 4

“He shall have the same opportunities that,
are offered ,to Ihayendane cal” said Sir
William. “If there is good b cod in him, he.
shall lack no chance to show itl” ‘

“My heart in lad while in brother?
geeks i” said the ol Mohawk. “ en the]
_reat Spirit calls for me I am ready to go,,

for m son needs a. father now .no more l"

y,“ ow many warriors can ourutribc num,‘
ber, _ ready for the war-pat ?" askcd' Sir“
William. sudddenly changingAthe subject. .

The old chief cast his e Vesdown and seem-
ed to study for a while ; en' he replied :’ y I

“ Count as man years as there are, cons,
in two seasons. 1 en for every day c, that
tinélsflcount a warrior ready to take the was.
pa ll

“Between two and three thousaiidrthe,
other nations semany‘more. I can assure the
king, than, of st least fifteen t opsand‘faithgul
allies in the coining struggle ” muttered is
William. '

" Are we to fight the French again I" asked
the old chief, who had caught the last words
of the baronet., though not intended, for his,
car.

“No; their powerin America‘was forever ‘

crushed out in the last war, but there, are,
those whawoufl rebel saris-t thesood king.
our father, beyond the great [w yrs, and we
may have to dig up the hate et to punish
them. But Arc hyadecks, must keep a still
mouth upontliisfi’m ' . .

“fie will ; yet he will sharpen his knife, for
he loves to walkthq war-pathl’.’ replied the.
savage. whose nostrils seemed joyfully to.
scent blood. though afar 08.

“You will exercise your warriors, and 0t

/

them for war 1” continued the baronet. but
careful] conceal from them the occasion for
it, whic I have named to you I"
“ The words of the great chief, my brother.

are laws to Aroghyadecka I" said the Indian
Sir William now filled a second glass of
‘ taran<ly,and the reconciliation was complete, .
so far as outward up earance indicated. The
Indian soon after too 'his leave, and then the'
baronet sent for his steward, and gave articu-
lar directions regarding the disposition and
treatment of the recent accessions to his family.
‘He then bade liim send Tliayendaiiegea to
him—also Mr. O’Whackem', the schoolmaster.

CHAPTER VII.
The schoolmaster was. the first to make
‘his a pearancc, erhups because he scented
bran y. forthe ai-onet never failed to pro-
duce that article when he was“ in a good
humor, and it is not in the creed of any true
Irishman to refuse a glass of good liquor.

“Iseat for you," said the baronet. when
Mr. O'Wliackcm entered, ffto instruct you
that you will have three new pupils in the
morning."

“ Male or faymsle, Sir William ?"

“Both—two young Indians—one, the son
of the Mohawk chief; the other, a boy whom
I have adopted, a regular eagle, who will be
apt to stick his talons intoyou if you are too
rough with him—so I deem it best to warn
you. His sister you will instruct with the
same. care and entleness which you bestow
upon my iowu daughters l" . ‘

“ Your directions shall be duly attinded‘ to,
Sir Willianill" said the edngogue, with) s
backward scrape of his out. and a forWard
snap of his head, which would have endan-
gered a neck more slim than his}

"‘ Take a glass of brandy—help’yourself
‘ from the table there i" std the baronet. '

O‘Whackem dutifully obeyed the order,
without the slightest esitation. While he
was drinkin “it off, Thnyendanegca entered. V

“Why di the son 0 Dya etto leave the
room so abruptly, with a‘clou‘ on his face, a
little time ago ?" askedthe baronet.

“M heart was hot, foi"I sawian enemy
before me I" replied the boy.

“The endanegea must earn to curb‘hisl
passion my presence!” said the baronet.
“ch. H I l
j “ ill the mountain torrent $0 when tth
greatchief tells it todoI so 9 ‘  {the eag‘l‘.
‘pau‘se in its 'fiig‘ht toward thesun' when ‘9'
lcalls to it? Can he tell’thefclouds not to
‘ rain, the winds to cease, and will they obcy‘
him I” '

“Nol But Thsyendanegea is neither the
rushing stream nor thelcli'ainless winds 1”, '

““ The hot thoughts of his heart are more,”
' free than they 1" ‘ ‘
‘“ They must be curbed, andThayendanefiec:
'niust learn patience, else he will not be is:

, warrior which I would make of him 1’"

""I‘hayendanegea will try, but do'ii‘ot‘ ask.
him to touch hands with his enemy. ,Hll
heart will not hold a lie l” ' ' 

“I do not require that—but the son 0'
\Dys'getto must make no quarrels in my house.
I isico‘will dwell here, and’if you do riot liks’
h_ m; timid him, but make no quarrel'i‘fi‘ 'V 

“I care not for him—lie'is ‘a s new, «I
dare not look me in the eye. But. ‘s jfat er
I s ' ke bittér words to my mother, and; I 'willf
killhim't‘orityctl?’ ‘ y . '  .. , '

“Bide our. time, boy, hide your time!"
and the oil: btrci'i'et, who could a”: help is;
n'i‘iring the 'truthfiil‘undor 9!, We; cutli',
‘ “‘You' can go now—‘toémorl‘9WJW W11 0031-.
ménce to btyudy.” ’ ‘ 1 A

‘Thayendsneg’ea slightly bowed his'lie‘adi
and turned away. '  ' ' I 

“ What do ou’ think of him. O’Wliaclteiu if.
asked Sir Wl ism, after Thayendanegea had
'gone out. ' i  ~ ' _' Ll
“ By my faith. sir, I belnve [there fs’afi spice,
' of the divil in him. I nivir saw such‘an gys‘a
:i avhumanhbcfore—it looks clans through

[7’ .  ‘ .

“There is more iiitelli encc e as: jili'"
his facé than in that of iffy rlldllfilpfillggn‘ 
efver‘saw before, I wish‘liis education early
.fd-lly attended to l"  ' '  1:;
9‘ s2” be done, Sir William. Is, it. the

join; “if scum  imminent is‘weii,
, as" G l0 ’0!’ branches?" ' . .

 

'“ o—ths mon‘usoful branches! 

 

‘- ’th—sp—a—

6

The New York Library.

 

 

him to read and write well, and be particular
in his mathematical knowledge. for he will
be a great military leader yet, or my judg-
ment is in error i"

“ And the other one, Sir William—what
shall I do with him 7"

“The best you can; but keep a close eye
upon his movements and ways. He is a
snake. and a spy, I expect—hut let him have
no hint of my suspicious Take another
glass, and leave me,I have letters to write

fore the carrier leaves for Albany 1”

“ Health and long life to yer honorl May
the day be far 03 which 0 one wid sorrow
for ye, Sir William I" said ’Whackem, as he
tossed od‘ his second bumper, and then strode
out of the room.

“ He is indeed a noble boy, and Dyagetto
only uttered truth when she said that O ah-
tees s irit seemed renewed in him l" so ilo-

uia Sir William, when he was once more
aone. “He is destined to be a great man,
and it is for me to help him up the hill. He
is already an orator—no one, in attitude or
expression. could have excelled him when he
s ks so contemptously of Ipisicc, and so
bitterly of his father. Bo that he is, I would
rather have his love than is hate. His is the
truss irit to rule a savage nation, to quell iii-
subo ination, or to urge them on to battle.
Thay‘3ndansgea is the foundation of a mighty
man

 

CHAPTER VIII.

The steward of Sir William introduced 0n-
alova to his two daughters, and caused the
housekeeper to prepare for her an apartment
near theirs. The Indian girl was not so much
of a curiosity to them, as the were to her,
for, born of a fair and flaxen- aired German
mother, they were more white and more beau-
tiful in their s?lc than an thing she had ever
dreamed of be ore. Their ress, though plain
was vs rich to her eye, and far more beauti-
ful than that which she wore; but when Kath-
leen, the youngest, playfully dressed her in
one of her own was. and ut stockings and
shoes upon her cat, oor nalova felt as if
she was in chains. or own garb best suited
the free action of her lithe fi re and sym-
metrical limbs. And we are sin to say that
no fashion in the world so becomes a faultless
3 re as that of an Indian maiden. The
Inn jacket, ting, but not compressing
the ust and want; the full skirt descending
to or below the knee; the beaded moccasins,
the mantle of many hued feathers, the flower-
wrought wreath, over black and flowing
tresscs. all adorn beauty thr more than hoops
and bustles, fiounces and laces, ribbons and
a -gaws. This is my opinion, ladies of

hion, t mad at it if you like

The ughters of Sir William, Kathleen
and Ileonorc, who had been hrou ht as in

seclusion, were very much do gh at

e thought of having a young companion
whom they were told to treat as kindl as if
she were their sister; and Onalova id not
feel sad or lonely when her mother told her
she was going to visit her tribe and relatives
fbr a few days, they were so very kind to

her.
. All of the afternoon of the first day was

s at by them in snuggling and ornamenting
. ova's room, accc 'ug to their ideas of
comfort and taste.

Onalova looked on with astonishment and
wonder, for she was so all unused to luxu
and ornament, other than the flowers an
gems of nature, and the feathers, and furs, and
painted barks which her brother had given
oer, that these things seemed to her more
beautiful than would the furniture of a alace
to a peasant girl, fresh from her homily cot.
And, unlike a warrior, or even her brother,
who was a warrior in embryo, who would let
nothin force an utterance of astonishment
from t eir lips, her words of surprise and

leasure were frequent and many. This de-
lighted the other girls who liters l despoiled
their own rooms and wardrobes to furnish
bars. After all was done, Kathleen cried :

“ New, Onalovs, dress me in your style; I
wish to see how I will look in your dress [7'

“The PIE-RON ll V017 beautiful—I love
her l" said the Indian  as she hastened to
pcrformthedesiredto “Willshcbsmy

I”

“ Yes, and Leonora, also—we will both be
sisters to you. We will learn you to write,
and draw, and pla the harpsichord, and you
shall learn as to _ sd moccasins, and work

 

ltorcupine quills on the white fawn skins, and
make feather wreaths and capes.”

Soon Kathleen, who was very beautiful in
face and form. was arrayed in the robes of
Onalova, and they added to rather than de-
tracted from her natural loveliness. Her full
bust and well-turned limbs were revealed just
enough by the proportions of the dress to
show how exquisitely she was formed, and
her gold-hued ringlete fell down upon her
white neck and shoulders as bright as sun-
light upon snow. Leonora, who was ever
the most quiet or the saddest of the two, was
in ecstacies, and declared that she, too, must
have a dress like that of Onalova. But we
will leave them for an instant, for I wish to
keep an eye upon the hero of my story.

When Tha endanegea left the presence of
Sir William t e second time, he was mes in
the hall by John and Gu Johnson, the son
and nephew before allude to. Both greeted
him With kindness, and the elder, John, said :

“ You must be my brother, Thayendane-

ea 1"
g “ And mine also i" added Gn .

The oung Indian regarded t em both at-
tentive? for a few moments, then he extended
hisdhan to John, and looking coldly at Guy,
sai : '

“ brother is enough for me l”

Guy reddened with mortification, or anger,
peigiaps with both ; but John good-naturedly
u, .

“ If he is my brother, Guy, he is your
cousin still l”

“Be a brother to him !" said Tha enda-
uegea, pointing to Ipisico, who, dresse in all
his tawd finery, stood near them, but not
looking ha f so noble as Dyagetto’s son, in his
plain garb

“ I will, and you may re at the hint l"
muttered Guy, as he went an joined the son
of the old chief. ‘

" Come and look at our horses l" said John
to Thayendanegea. “ Do you love to ride 2"
he added, as he led the way to the stables.

“ Yes! the wild horses from the plains, that
fly like the wind, and shake the ground with
their mighty leaps! Yes, such ones I love
to ride l"

“Then we’ve got one that will‘ suit you,”
said the young man—“ one that no one
dares to back. He is so fierce and wild,
that the grooms fear to take him from the
stable I" ~

“I will ride himl” said Thayendsnegcs.

uietly.

“ But I tell you he is ungovernable l”

“ I will tame him 1"

“fly father will let none of us mount, or
a; to mount him l"

“ I wm. ride him i” said the young Indian,
so fiercely, that his companion was for the
moment startled.

In a few moments they were at the stables,
where Sir William’s magnificent stud of sad-
dle and earring: horses were kept. There
were im orted enters, heavy drau ht horses
from F anders, and the stocky ut agile

nies from Canada. But the eyes of the oung
ndin. sed these over with scarcsa ance.
He loo ed for the tameless steed which no
one dared to ride. And his dark e es flashed
proudly when he saw it—a blac stallion,
without a spot of white, in form the erfec-
tion of symmetry—deep-ehested, thin- nked,
with a small head, a fiery eye, and great nos-
trils, which distended with an er at the ap-

reach of man, as if to speak his hate of those
who held him in bondage. His glossy mane
and tail swept nearly to the ground, and his
slender limbs revealed their sinewy strength
in muscle rather than in sin. He was fasten-
ed to the strong posts at the head of the stall
lay a haltar of chain, for rope would not hold

in.

“ Bring me a bridle i" said Thayendanegea,
while he surveyed the magnificent ani
with looks of the kcenest admiration.

“ You two: bridle him—all the men about
the stable could not do it!”

“ Where are your bridles T” was the only
ap‘lly that Thaycudanegca conde'scended to
rm

e.

At the call of the young Englishman, a
groom approached, who, in obedience to his
order, brought a bridle, but when he was
told that it was the intention of the young
Indian to ride the black stallion, Vesuvms, he
was horror-stricken.

 

“ it is impossible to bridle him, letsloue the,
‘ ‘: '7 J‘.‘
, /

ndin of him i” said the man.

“ ou talk, I do!" said Thayendanegca,
snatching the bridle from his hand, and a
heav whip, which he carried. He then
hold entered the stall.

“ odl the beast will kick his brains out
or gnaw him up with his teeth I" cried the
groom, as some of the other servants hurried
to the s at

But t is young hero did not heed these re-
marks. He went boldly to the head of the
horse, which snorted with anger, and quiver-
ed in every limb, as if about to try and burst
from the strong chain which was strapped to
its glossy nee . But looking right into its
fiery eye, and laying his hand fearlessly u on
Its mane, the brave lad stroked it gong ,
and when it reared up. and tried to plun e
upon him with its fore-feet, he scarce y
moved, more than to avoid them, and as its
head came down, by an adroit movement
slipped the bit in its mouth, and the bridle
upon its head, throwing the reins back upon
the neck. ready for use.

The exclamations of the grooms, who wit
nessed an act which none of them would have
the courage to perform, drew still more wit.
nesses to the extraordinary spectacle. but a
moment after all dispersed with a about of
terror, and sought places of safety, when they
saw Thayendanegea deliberately cast off the
chain from the neck of the dreaded animal,
and back him, rearing and plunging as he
was, from the stall into the open space out-
side of the stable.

The moment that he was clear of the build-
ing, Thayendane ea lea ed upon the back of
the fiery animaf, whici made one or two
maddened bounds, and then stood for an in-
stant foaming and nashing its teeth and
trembling with fury efore the front of the
mansion, upon the porch of which Sir William
and his family now stood, drawn out by the
cries of the men at the stable.

“Good Heavens, the ho is mad! Vesu-
vius will kill him I" crie the baronet, in

'alarm for his new rotege.

And by the wil plunges which the mad-
dened stallion now made—now leaping with
all four feet from the ground—then rearing
and whirling in circles around—then plung.
ing forward and kickin its heels high in the
air, it would seem as i no rider could keep a
seat upon its back. .

The daughters of Sir William sci earned in
terror, and even Onalova, brave as she natu
rally was, and used to danger as well as co
nisant of, and confident in her brother’s skill,
held her breath when she saw how terrible
the wild steed struggled to throw him.

But calmer than all, composed and ass ,
was the hero of the strug le. Seated as firm y
as if he were is art of t e horse, reservin
his balance 'n al of its movements, lie allows
it to expen its strength and fire without him-
self using a word or a blow. Even when it
laid down and tried to roll him off, he only

ut his feet to the ground, and when it rose,
he rose upon its back.

Finding all its efforts to cast such a rider
useless, the horse. now white with sweat
and foam, stood stubbornly still, and made no
further movement.

Now Thayeudunegea began to quietly urge
it to move, talking to it kindly, patting it

ently', and touching its flanks with his basis.

at t e stubborn animal would not sten fr im
its sulks. Suddenly, with a wild shriil yell,
striking it asheaVIly as he could with his
whip, the outh loosened his rein, and the
horse, as i terror-stricken, bounded forward
like a deer, close followed by the bounds.
Yellin and strikin the horse at every ljump,
the ho d outh sped over the grassy p uin at
a frightfu rate. circling here and there as his
own will and strong arm enabled him to do,
until after a run of twenty or thirty minutes.
he found that he had the horse completely
under control. Then drawing him up, he
trotted him slowlv hack to the mansion. nut
sing him there through various paces, and
showin a complete mastery over him.

Sir illiam, who had at first been terrified
at the danger to which the bold rider was ex-
posed, was not only delighted to see him in
safet , but at his conquest over an animal
whic eve one, himself included, had so
feared, that e was considered utterly useless,
and had only been kept in consequence of his

beaut’y.
“ on have mastered Vesuvius, and hence.

‘ forward he shall know no other master but

Thayeadaueges—he is yours i” cried the hero-


l
i

Thayendanegea, the Scourge. '7

 

 

net, as the young Indian drew the noble steed
up before him.

“ You romised him to me, uncle!" said
Guy, hastily.

“ If you could ride him, and on never
dared even to approach him in his stall I" said
the baronet, scornfully,

I‘But I can ride him now,” said the nephew,
looking at the apparently quiet animal.

“Tr it!" cried Thayendanegea, leaping
from t e horse, which stood motionless while
he was near its head.

" Do, cousin Guy, let us see how you look
on horseback l" said John, in a sarcastic tone,
for he felt proud of his new brother, and
angry; at Guy’s meanness.

“ e'll hardly risk his precious neck" said

Sir William, quietly.

“ You shall see, sir! I can ride as well as
any copper-faced Indian in the land l" cried
the young man, maddened with the bantering
tone of his uncle, and seizing the reins, he
vaulted upon the back of the horse.

The latter, whose eyes were fixed upon his
Indian master, seeming to feel that something
unworthy of his touch was on his back, sud-
denly elevated his hind legs, and the next in-
stant Master Guy Johnson found himself
doubled up in a heap on the ground some
twenty feet in front of the horse.

“ X on mount well, but dismount better,
nephew Guy i" cried the old baronet.

“ A nick ride, and soon over, cousin Guy !"
shoute John.

“ You may have m pony and side-saddle !"
cried the merry Kath een—“ you’ll do better
with them I"

Guy made no answer to these sallics, but,
rising, limped ofl', cursing as he went, but not
in tones loud enough to reach the ears of his
uncle.

“ Take your horse. Thayendanegea," said
Sir William; “I doubt whether he will ever
acknowledge an master but you."

“ Come !” sai the youn Indian, and he ex-
tended his hand toward t ie horse.

The animal instantly followed him, even as
if he understood both word and gesture—fol-
lower.‘ him to the stable, where Thayenda-

‘negea took the bridle from him, then rubbed
him down, and fed him with his own hand,
for he was determined that no other should
approach him now. And the horse, while
he was so enga ed, seemed as gentle and as
fond of him as i he had been reared from a

colt‘liry him.

“ hat do on think of that, O’Whackem ?"
asked Sir Wi liam Johnson of the schoolmas-
ter, who had been a wondering spectator of
the occurrences we have just related. “Does
his riding look like work in the old conn-
tr ?"

“ Faith it does, Sir William, only a little
more so. It's well for the lad he isn‘t down
in Salem. They'd hang him for a wizard.
there. sure! Faith I'd like him to tame some
of the rapscallions in my school! Master
Guy came nigh knocking the brains out o!
himself—cure if he’d struck butt end down,
’twould have been the last of him!" '

“He‘ll know better next time," said Sir
William, and then noticin for the first time
the chan e of dress in Ona ova and Kathleen,
he looke attentively at both.

“Why,l(atc,m girl,” said he,“ ou’ddress
in that way all he time, if you new how
well you looked l"

“I mean to father; Onalova is going to
make dresses for me and Leonore l"

“ I wish she'd make one for me," said John,
in a low tone, lookin with a glance of intense
admiration upon the ndian girl.

She did not hear his words, but her eyes
met his glance, and a slight blush suffused
her face as she turned her eyes away from his
earnest gaze. .

‘ “You had better 0 in, girls, the damp
dews are fallin ,and ews are far less health
than rain to uman 'flowers,” said the ol
baronet, kindly.

They obeyed, and John went to the stable
,to see Thayeudsnegea, while the baronet in-

tvited O'Whackem in to take an evening glass
and smoke a pipe with him, for the old

knight was ever amused by the odd conceits
and ex iron-sion» of his schoolmaster, who,
despite iis rou h and uncouth ap .arance.
was still an «faceted man, for he ad been

repared for the priesthood in his native land.
but had found such a su erabundance of the
carnal and such a lack o the spiritual in his
composition. when he rew up to manhood,
that he would not den 9 robes

 

CHAPTER IX.

“ What a noble-looking brother you have,"
said Leonore to Onalova, when they once
niori reached the sitting room, from which
their bed-rooms opened.

“ And what a rider! No one but him
could conquer Vesuvius l" cried the live]
Kathleen. "If I ever do get married, whic
the holy saints forbid, you must give me your
brother for a husband, Onalcval

“ Will my sister ive me her brother for
mine?“ asked the In ian girl, artlessl .

“ Oh, yes, you may have John; yes. indeed l"

“ Then you may have Thayendanegea l"
replied Onalova.

“ A bargain, and witnesses thereuntc i" cried
a manly voice at the door, and John, who had
approached noiselessly, and heard the conver-
sation, now entered the room with Thayenda-
no es.

{athleen uttered a faint scream -— she
wouldn't have been in the fashion if she had
not ; but Onalova looked as calm and contented
as if she felt that she had neither said or done
anything which was worth a scream or a blush.
And, contrasted with those ale-faced beau-
ties, she seemed far the love iest. Their su-
perior in stature and in elegance of figure, her
complexion so transparent that each vein
could be traced beneath the skin, dark though it
was——her large black eyes meltingly sofb—lier

lossy hair of raven hue, as fine as silk—her
eatures classical and perfect—her expression
at once proud, yet gentle and loving in its very
dignity, how could she be other than very,
very beautiful!

And so thought the heir to the title and
estate of Sir William Johnson, and wild and
im ulsive as he had ever been in his nature,
an free from love. if not from passion, he now
knew a feeling which had never entered his
heart before. He felt as if he loved that poor
Indian girl better than all the world beside.
And his feelings, like those of all in their first
love, were pure ! No sensualit , no selfishness,
no hypocrisy Were mixed wit them.

He now introduced Thayendanegea to his
sisters as his adopted brother, and after they
had given the young men seats, they did what
they could to amuse them. Leonore, who
drew and painted well, produced her ortfolic
and exhibited her drawings and s etches,
while Kathleen brought out various embroid-
eries, in which she eatly excelled.

The dark, eye of Tha endanegea wandered
carelessly over all the rawin s, which were
landscapes and sketches of bi s and flowers,
until at last it came to a spirited battle scene,
copied  her from some old painting. Then
his eye ashed, and as it note each figure of
man and horse, the living and the slain, he
uttered the word : ‘

“Good! They fi ht l"

Poor Kathleen fe t not a little mortified
that he did not speak a word of praise in re-

ard to her work, and she thou ht it strange

at the young Indian scarcely ooked at her
or her sister, and then manifested no acknow-
ledgment of their beauty—none of the wonder
which Onalova had felt and so free] uttered.
_She was determined to see if be any feel-
in . or really was the stoic which he seemed;
an thought, and justly too, that music would
be the surest test; for hard is the heart, and
stern the soul, which music will not melt.

She brought out her harpsichord, and, com
menciiig with a low preh. le, accompr
herself to a sweet song. Her voice was ash
and full, and as she sung of love. ani' she
seemed to feel its power, it fairly filled the
room with melody. Her bosom rose and fell,
and the color deepened on her cheek as she
sung; but Thayendanegea remained as calm
and passive as a stone, looking more at the
mechanical action of her fingers upon the in-
strument than an thing else.

Suddenly she c nged the theme, and sung
an ancient war-song. As her voice rose in
this and thrilled out the charge and the,bat-
tle's clangor. then the oun Indian‘s e
flashed, and his broad a est saved, and is
nostrils dilated, while his ear seemed to drink
in every note.

“ Good .’” said be, when she, half- exhausted,
cloeed the song.

She had touched the right chord of his na-
ture. No .carpet kni ht was he to list to
puling strains of love, ut every inch a war»
rior and a man, though time had not yet ac-
corded unto him a warrior's place.

Delighted with even that success, Kathleen
only paused to recover breath. and then she
Commenced another song-a song once more

 

of love.

Suddenly the sound of a drum and fife near
the house was heard. '

“ What is that Y" asked Thayendanegea,
starting to his feet, and listening to the mar-
tial music, all forgetful that Kathleen was
singing.

“Malcom is mustering the men for the
night-guard!" said oung Johnson.

“Let us o—I li e that music—I want to
see them! an they fight i”

“ They did in the war with the French I”

“I must. see theml I love to look at war.
riors 1" said Thayendanegea, not a peering to
heed the presence of the girls in t e slightest
do ree.

oung Johnson would gladly have lingered

there lon er, so as to have conversed with
Onalova, ut the impatience of her brother
could not be checked. and the two young
men went out to attend the parade of the
guard. 1

CHAPTER X.

Back intoa grove in the rear of the man-
sion strode Guy Johnson, after his discom-
flture related at the close of the eighth cha ter.
And as he went he bit his lips until the b ood
ran from them, and actually we t from anger
and mortification. And curses, bitter and deep
and all too wild for utterance from lips so
young, burst forth as he passed on, until he
reached a messy bank, beneath the shade 0!
some tall pines, upon which he cast himself.

Then he heard light foot-steps behind

‘him, and knew for the first time that he was

followed. Looking back, he found that it was
Ipisico.

“ My heart is sad for my brother, and
angry with his enemy i” said the young In-

ian.

“ Who is my enemy ?” asked Guy, angerly

“ Who but this Thayendanegea, who is also
my enemy—who but he, that comes from no
one knows where, and is no one knows what?
Who but he 9" ‘

“True, I isico, he is an unknown u start;
but I will umble his pride! I‘ll ta e‘ the
starch out of his rutlles yet I” cried Guy.

“ I will kill him for my brother—will watch
him close, and when he sleeps my knife shall
drink his blood l"

“ No—that will not do here! My uncle
has taken a face to him,,and were his blood
shed, he would nd all out, and hang any one
concerned in the deed, even if it were me, his
own brother‘s son I", i

“ I will kill the horse which threw my
brother, then! That will touch the heart of
our enemy, for it will spoil his triumph I"

“Yes, you mav do that! It will touch him
to the quick. he horse should have been
mine at any rate—and ]you may kill the snow-
white pony in the stub e which belongs to my
cousin Kathleen, for she, too, dared to taunt
me when I was thrown, I will be reveiiged
upon all of them. I care not what it costs !"

“ My brother is a great brave! And so am
I. I will help him to crush his enemies! My
heart is big, and I fear nothing i” said Ipisieo,
swelling up as proudly as a peacock on a

. sunn morning in a clever field.

“ he son of Aroghyadecka lies 1" said a
deep, hollow voice in the rear, and both or
the young men sprang to their feet, and
looked crowd to see from whence the voice
proceeded. , - . - .

No one was in sight. Gu turned as pale
as a sheet and tremb ed with ear, whilelpisi.
co seemed even more terrified they be.

“ What was it t" asked Guy. in a hoarse.
whis er.

“ s ii it—let us go fro ‘llei‘el" said Ipisi-
co, whi e his teeth c atte together with his.
shivering fear. _

‘- Stay i” said the some voice. in a hollow

tone.
“The Lord save us—what can it be?"
ped Guy, and he sunk down to the ground
gain the very weakness of his abject fear. ‘
I isico also cowered down. to the earth.
and drew his embroidered blanket over‘ his

‘ head, as'ifto hide from his view some hurri-

ble Vision which his terror painted to his

mind.
“ Who spoke 2" at last said Guy. gathering
courage, because he .“w some one approach-
. It a distance, from toward the mansion.
c this question he received no reply, and

' seeing that those who were approaching were

 

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8

The New York Library.

 

 

no other than his uncle and the schoolmaster,
who frequently walked in the grove while
they talked and smoked their evening pipes
he said :

“ Rouse up, Ipisico, rouse up, and act like a
man. I’m not afraid i"

“’Tis false i" said the same hollow voice,
and Guy, even though his uncle was now
close by, started from the spot, and hurried
away, as if death was in the very atmosphere
of the lace.

“ W at the deuce is the matter here ? My
neghew running awe like is scared sheep,
an this cub Indian oubled u in a hea ,
with his blanket over his hen I” cried Sir
William, as he approached the spot.

“ Get up, Ipisico. What are you trembling
for f"

“A spirit, great chiefi a épiritl” moaned
the Indian.

“ The spirit of the devil !”

“ Yes, great chief, yes—it spoke to us l”

“ Here, you Guy, come back here and tell
us what this means i” shouted Sir John to his
nephew, who was yet within call, although
hugying toward the house.

1th a downcast face, and a shsepish ex-
ression, the young man came back and told
‘ir William that, while he and Ipisico were
talking, a strange voice spoke to them, and
not being able to discover any one. they
were frightened, because they believed it to
be a spirit.

“ You are both fools and cowards i" said
Sir William, contemptuousl , for he was no
believer in s irits. “ Look around among
the trees, 0’ hackem, and see if there is any
one about l"

“ Divil the one, Sir William I” re lied the
latter, after making a thorough searc . “ Per-
hope they were a plotting some kind 0' mis-
chief, an ‘twas the voice of conscience that
spoke to ’em. I've heard of the likes 0' that
——of voices that wouldn’t let the murderer
slaps, or the wicked one rest!"

“They had better beware how they plot
any mischief, or attempt to execute it on m
domain 1" said Sir William, sternly. “I wi I
make brief trial and speedy unishment re-
dress all evil here! Of that, aster Guy, you
and your friend can remain assured 1”

'Having said this, he walked on, and soon
disappeared in the darker recesses of the
grove, with O’Whackem, while Guy and his
com anion hastened to the house, for they
dar not stay there.

They had been gone but afcw moments,
when from the thick branches of a short,
stum y spruce, a man descended. His garb
and eatures were those of an Indian, but his
face was bleached almost to whiteness. as if
by long illness or confinement. His frame
was attenuated, his eyes sunken, and his hair
long and white as snow. He looked thewery
picture of one who had suffered long, and be-
come old before his time.

He said nothing, but shook his clenched
hand threatenineg in the direction which had
been taken by "the youn men, and then
walked away in a route ifi‘erent from that
taken by Sir William, yet one leading into
the densest art of the grove. His steps were
now and fee lo, for he seemed half famished
and very weak. ‘

CHAPTER XI.

When Dy tto returned to the village
from which I e had been absent so many
years. at first scarce one of her former acquaint-
ances, or even her relatives, knew her; for
she was young, and exceedingly beautiful,
when she suddenly disappeared from them,with
her two little children—one a babe, and the
other ust-ablc to walk. It was on the night
after t e body of her husband—brutally mur-
dered, and so disfigured that he could only be
recognized by his clothing and weapons—had
been discovered near his Wigwam: and many
so posed that, in her frenzy, she had cast her-
se f and her children into the swift rapid! of
the “Little Falls" of the Mohawk, near which
she dwelt at that time. But. some there were
who knew of the ambition of one man in the
tribe, and of his enmityto 0 ahtee, who had
won Dya etto, thou h the first was also a
suitor for or hand, w o felt more than a mere
suspicion that be had_ removed her and the
heir to the chieftainship of Ogahtee, that he
might, through a strsn 6 Influence which he
held over Sir William ohuson, the king's su-
perintendent. be elevated to the murdered

chiel’tain's place. And though Aroghyadecka
got the place, and was brave, wise. am politic,
and, by his liberality to his tribe and his own
self-denial, managed to become po ular with
most of his people-—although, as said be
fore. some there were who re arded him with
dark suspicion; for the mur erer of Ogahtee
was never known with certainty, although the
charge was laid to an Onondngo Indian, who
disappeared that night from their village,
where he had a squaw, and was never seen
again.

But when Dyagetto told her name, and her
altered features were remembered, great were
the rejoicings of her relatives, and warm was
the welcome which was given to the widow
of the late chief. But when she was ques-
tioned about her absence. where had she been,
and where were her children, she was silent,
only tellin them that it was not the will of
the Great pirit that she should then inform
. them, but in time they should know all.

They hastily prepared a feast for her, and
all of the head Women of the tribe gathered
. there to do her honor. With sad dignity she
received and thanked‘ them; but, while she
begged them to eat and be merry, she refused,
for, said she:

“My heart is very heavy! I remember
Dgahtee, and look back through the darkness,
and the rain of many tears, to the bright time
when he placed the love-wreath upon my
head i Let me go to his grave and wee , and
then, when my heart is finore light, will
come and hear your songs.”

They could but assent, and honor her for
that sorrow which time could not lessen, but
which was still fresh, like the ever-living
spring, or that “plant which lives while love
lives, or the op -gem which shines until af
fection dies.

And we will leave her to make that sad pil-
grimage amid moonlight and shadow—for scat
tered clouds were moving athwart the sky—
while we look elsewhere to the doings of an-
other of the characters in our life-drama.

Down below .he Little Falls only a short
distance, upon the southern bank of the river,
was a deep ravine, which a peared'—although
no water ran throu h it t en—to have been
deeply cut in the 10 ty precipice of rock which
overhangs that bank a stream,for the marks
of the torrent were p ainly to be seen in the
gullied, and seamed, and smooth-worn rocks
on either side. It was a dark and gloomy
gorge. too narrow and too rough to invite the
tread of man, and so overhun With thick
evergreens and tangled vines, t at not even
the sun, at midday, could pierce its loom.

Into this gorge, on the night of t e same
day when he had left Ipisico in the care of
Sir William Johnson, at or near the. hour of
midnight, old Arc hyadecka might have been
seen to enter. Hgis etc was i ht and cau-
tious, and be frequently ooked ack to see if
any one had followed him or was watching
his motions. He bore in one hand a willow
basket, which contained a quantity of dried
meats ; with the other he carrie his gun.
Slowly u the dark ravine, along a path
which not in but bein used to could enable
him to tread, e made his way, ausing, every
little while, to listen. Along t us he went,
until he reached the face of' a rock which
seemed to jut out so as to admit of no further
passage in that direction, and where the ra-
vine nsrrowed to not more than ten feet at
the bottom, and less at the top. With a li ht
bound he crossed to a ledge upon the at or
side, turned a projecting corner, and stood in
a small cave or recess, which, at a first lance,
looked as if it had been quarried out y the
hand of man ; yet it was natural.

Here he paused, and, takin out flint and
steel, soon struck a li ht, and ignited a torch
of li ht-wood, of whic there was a small store
pile in the cave. Sticking this in a crevice
of the rock, he took away a heavy s uare

stone, which he could barely lift, from’the ack
part of the small cave, and then it could be
seen that this was really only the mouth of a
large cave beyond, which had been walled up,
for from far within the dark and gloomy s see
beyond could be heard the sound of fa ling
wfirs. A buckskin rope appeared to be fas
tuned to a wooden (peg inside, and, taking hold
of it, he commence pulling it in. After draw-
ing up some forty or fifty feet, an empty basket
appeared at its end. =

“He lives yet,” muttered the old chief ; “ he
has used up all his food."

Detachng the empty basket. he fastened to

 

 

the rope the one he had brought. and tin-n t

lowered it down into the cavern.

“ Eat. dog—eat and live !“ he cried, as be
lowered sway the food “ Live, and remember
Dyagetto and the revenge of Aroghysdeckal"

Hollow and far-sounding echoes came back
from the depths below, but no human voice
made reply.

“He must be getting weak, he does not
curse me, as was his wont. It is time he died!
I'll bring him food no more, but let him per-
ish now; for even I am satisfied! He shall
have death, and that is mercy i” said the old
chief.

He now replaced the stone in the aperture,
and, kicking the basket down into a crevice
between the rocks, leaped over to the other
side, and returned the way that he came, ex-
tinguishing his light before he left the place.

CHAPTER XII

When Dyagetto left her relatives and friends
at the feast, that she might go and weep away
the heaviness or her heart, she passed up the
steep hill-side from the river to the sacred
ground where, for many years. that village of
the Mohawks had laid their dead. It was in
a maple grove, though here and there a pine
or spruce lifted its stately form, towering,
with evergreen head, far above its more mortal
fellows which changed with every season.
And there, among the many mounds, she found
one beneath the wide-s read branches of a
tamarac tree, beside w ich she knelt and
sobbed, pouring out the hot tears upon the
grassy sod like the warm rain of a summer
shower.

“ Ogahtee, my first love and my last 1” she
moaned. “ Once more beside thee, once more
above thee, soon I will join thee. Look down,
oh, spirit of Ogahteel look down from the
happy hunting-grounds, and see who it is that
weeps beside thy grave—who it is that prays
for sleep upon t iy bosom l"

Thus, for hours, she mourned, sobbing until
she was weary and sick, when suddenly the
sound of approaching footsteps fell upon her
ear, and she arose and drew close up to the
shadowy trunk of the tsmarac.

At that instant “ the moon came out from
behind a cloud "—no, the cloud assed from
over the face of the moon—and a re suw who
it was that approached. It was Aroghya-
decks, returning from his visit to the rnvme

v and cave—his m sterious midnight expedition.

Stepping bel y out from the shade, which
would have concealed her. bad she so desired,
she confronted him in his path, and, in a doc
and bitter tone, while she pointed at Ogshtee s
grave. said: '

" Well met, well met, murderer! You call
yourself a great breme! Sis me now. that I
may sleep there beside m msbandl Come,
shoot, stab, and scalp! new are no soldiers
here now to hinder! Strike, coward—I am
only a woman!"

“ Not for a thousand beaver-skins would I
harm a hair of Dyagetto’s head i” said the old
chief, who was trembling with the agitation
of this sudden meeting.

“ What a change between sunrise and mid-
night!" she cried, sneeringly. “This morn-
ing vou wanted to kill me and In children!"

“ I have had a dream, and won d not harm
them now for the world i" said the old chief.

“A dream in the day—a dream without
slee 1’” she sneered.

“ t matters not. Their lives are safe. I
seek no quarrel with Dyagetto. Let us be at
peace.” \ ‘

“At peace with the murderer o! my bus-
band i"

“ I did not kill youhusbandl”

“ Liar l”

“By the Great Spirit, I swear I did not!”
said t e old chief, solemnly.

“ Kneel down by his grave, and swear it!"
cried the woman, sternly.

“I swear that I did not kill your husband l"
reiterated the chief, as he knelt upon the spot
indicated by her finger.

“ Nor cause him to be slain 2" she eon-
tinned.

“Nor caused him to be slain l" repeated the
chief, solemnly. >

For a moment the woman looked him sternly
in the face, as‘if she would search his heart
and soul,>snd he did not quail, or shrink from
her so. .

" f thy lips have uttered a falsehood, ms
the Great Spirit blasmyou with his curse-
make vou childless ~—-‘ my You death and

Mymw-.c,.,..._n,._, . .. .c.  ,_ . .

Thayendanegea, the Scourge. 9

 

 

make life terrible all the while!" she said, at
last.

“My li a have spoken truth l" he said, as he
rose. “lpwould be Dyagetto’s friend l”

“When she takes an adder into her bosom
and it harms her not-—\vhen the hungered
panther spares the be] less doe—when fishes
walk on land—when a 1 men speak only truth
——when blood is white, and fire is cold—then
Iwill consent to be the friend of Arogliya-
decks!” said she, bitterly, and she turned
haughtin awa ,and walked toward the vil-
lage. leaving iim standing upon the spot
where she had intercepted him.

His face darkened with a scowl of the dead
liest hate, as he watched her receding form.

“ M time will come, squaw—my time will
come .” he said, bitterly. " You shall weep
for more than a hushaudl The young eaglc
that looks so high shall come down, and the
young fawu of your bosom shall drink muddy
water! Arogliyadecka is not done et, He
has not forgotten who scorned his ove, and
threw his presents back into his face! He is
no child now; his heart is of stone; his will is
like the oak—it ma bend, but it will not
break l His revenge is slow, but surel Dya-

etto sheds tears of water now, but tears of

lood shall come ! I have the ower, and
will use it. What do I fear? No hing! My
heart is big, and my strength -"

A hollow groan—a deep and awful sound,
which seemed to come right up from the
grave beside which he had so lately knelt-—
broke upon his ear, and choked his utterance
in an instant. And it so terrified him that he
'fled from the spot with a speed which the pur-
suit of a hundred foes would not have got out
of him. Without once looking back, or paus-
ing for an instant, he fled away, nor did he
ate until he was once more safe beneath the
bar roof of his wig-warn.

Once there, he began to consider what it
was that had so terrified him. Naturally su-
perstitious, he finally concluded that it must

ave been, what in his terror he first believed
it to be, a spirit—the spirit of one from the
gravel

CHAPTER XIII.

Weeks rolled on, and to The endanegea
the did not pass unpleasantly. P eased With
an very attentive to his studies. he became a
great favorite with Mr. O’Whackem, who.
even had he not been, would not hava dared
to use the birch upon him as he did upon
some other of his pupils. for he had seen
enough of the young “ Eagle" to pay proper
respect to his talons, which were as ready as
his talents.

And with the rise of the sun each morning,
he led out his fiery stallion, and, springing
upon his back, bounded away for miles over
the plains that lay so level on the plateau
above the Mohawk. The horse now seemed
to be as fond of his young master as the lat-
ter was of him—would go and come at his
call—kneel for him to mount, and act as gen-
tly as a lady’s palfrcy, without any one else
attempted to mount. or even approach him.
Not a groom about the stable, or a man u on
the rcmises, could do so, without his re ax-
ing into his former terrible ferocity. Toward
Guy Johnson he exhibited a fiercer hatred
than to all the rest, and eVen Thayendanegea
could scarcely restrain him from plunging
upon him when his eyes fell upon the young
man, who, however, took the est of cars to
seep out of his way.

And at night, or rather in the afternoon,
when the sun began to sink in the west, and
the cool breezes to breathe amid the trees, thc

oung ladies and their brother John, and Oria-
Lvs. all wall mounted, would gallop out. with
Thaycndane ea, and sometimes the old baro-
net, mounts u on a sturdy hunter, would
join the cavalca 9.

At other times, when free from their studies,
John instructed Thayendanegemin the use of
the sword, but soon found that his pupil was
his equal if not his master; and when it came
to the use of the tomahawk, the bow. or even
the rifle, Thsyendanegea had no equal on the
estate—not one who could even approach to
his skill. , .

With two exceptions, the young Indian had
not an enemy on the place—not even through
envy, that ‘ most potent of enemy~makcn
The men likedhim for his skill, his willing-
neap, good nature, 'and, courage—the women,
(01,31!!! 'manly beauty, combined with these,
though to them he paid scarcely any atten-

/

 

 

tion.

The exceptions were Guy Johnson and Ipi-
sico. The former had never forgiven the that
slight put upon him by Tlmycndnnegea, nor
his toss from the black stallion—nor the sun
of Aroghyadecka, that he was looked upon as
a “ crow" and a “ squaw ” by the dashing and
fearless young warrior, who never for a mo-
ment, in any position, attempted to conceal
his contempt for him, or his hatred of his
father!

One evening. some four weeks after They-
cndanegea had become a member of Sir Wil-
liam‘s family, the cavalcade alluded to above,
including Sir William. started upon an even-
ing ride. Kathleen was mounted upon her
pretty white pony—Leonora upon a more
sober bay filly—Oualova u )0“ a vicious little
spotted pony, as full of“ 0 d Nick” as herself
when she wanted to be——John upon a spirited,
blooded animal, imported from England, and
Sir William upon his favorite hunter. Of
course, Vesuvius and his bold rider led the
van.

The evening was rather close, and the day
had been hot. and, as it was that season in the
latter part of summer when sudden thunder-
storms are common, the proposed ride was
not. intended to be a long one.

Seated in a shad spot near the house, Guy
and his inseparable lipisico, with lowering looks,
watched the go party as they rode off, for,
though invited by Sir William, they never
could be induced to join in these rides, except
by a positive command, which he would 'not.
give ; for, fond of enjoyment himself, he would
not mar that of others, b forcing upon them
unwilling and disagrees le company. For
disagreeable it would have been. Ipisico was

'not liked by any of the arty, for he had
ky

become morose, sullen, an an -.-and Guy
was oiil liked by one, the gentle Leonore,
who ha been a favorite of his father while he
lived, and who, at an early age, had, by the
mutual agreement of the two parent‘brothers,
been betrothed to Guy, whom she was to
marry when he arrived at his ma'ority.

In her woman-heart she pitic him when
she saw that others disliked hiin, and,.whilc
they magnified his many faults, her a mpathy
caused her to overlook them entire She
was his frequent defender before Sir illiam,
and even gently chided those who spoke ill of
him. for she never got angry, and could not
speak rudely to an one.-

But to return. ith scowling looks, Guy
and his companion regarded the gay party
which rode by them.

“I thought," said Guy to the other, “ that
you had promised to kill that cursed black
stallion and the white pony for me i”

“ I did so promise, my brother," 'replied'thc
Indian. “ But I was afraid of the s irit that
heard as when we s oke in the woo s there."
And he cinted to t e grove where they had
been so rrified.

“ Bah l We only dreamed we heard some-
thing—I’ve almost forgotten it,” replied Guy,
with a shrug of his shoulders and a curl of his
thin lip.

“It was a very
forget it," re lied the young Indian.

“ Ver we l—if you are such acoward, and
cannot eep your romises, I do not' want
you for a brother. on can go and play with
the women 1" .

“I am no coward," said Ipisico, fiercely;
“I will kill the horses this night!” .

“Do ‘it, and I will' give you a new rifle,”
said the young coaspirator. “I am sick of
seeing people iappy while I am wretched!
If I must live he cloud, they shall not have
all sunshine, if I can help it I’

“My “bi-other speaks wise words! When
he sits in a cloud, am not I. too, in the dark ?
The cold which makes him shiver is felt by
Ipisico. The enemies of my brother are my
enemies, and I will eat their hearts 1”

“Big words—big words! Do, and than
I will believe-you,” said Guy. '

, “Look, there is: a great storm coming,"
said the Indian, ,pointing to a huge black
cloud which seemed to have risenin an in-

stant, and with wonderful to idity was over- .

spreadingthe sk in the nort -west.

" Goo they’ get a thorou h soaking, if
nothing else, and we, too, if we an’t o to the
house," said Guy,” hc moved 0 toward
the mansion, chuckling at the idea that the
party would be out in the storm. »

loud dream, and I cannot:

 

CHAPTER XIV. I

The air being more cool and Iguant as
the evening drew on, the ride of ir William
and his )arty was extended much further. than
they her at first intended. Indeed, with free
reins, they had galloped several miles along
the carriage road toward the Sacanda a, which
the baronct had caused to be ma 9 for his
convenience in goin to his favorite resort for ‘
hunting water few and fishing—tho spot‘
known than, and new, as the “ Fish House.‘
and the Vlais'a adjoining.

And riding on 'so merrily, with tall tree on
either side of them, the aid not npticedtho
risng storm. The very rst intimation which
they had of it, was the sudden cessation of the
breeze that had been rustling the leaves, and
the actions of the birds, that seas-edto sing,
and flew, afi’ri |rhted, to seek covert where best
they might. hen a startling clap of thunder
pooled from the gathering blackness overhead,
and echoed far and wide through the wild-
wood. The horses, with the instinct of their
natures, huddled closely together and trembled,
all but Vesuvius, who snorted and bounded
gladly, as if he liked the coming storm, which
was so like his own wild nature.

“Turn and ride fast, girls I” exclaimed the
baronet; “ a storm like that which threatens
us now is better met anywhere than in the
forestl’h _ :

The uickly obeyed, while the swift-gather-

b ugliness above cast a loom upon all
be cw, and peel after eal of loud thunder,
preceded» by flashes of urid 1i htnin , rolled
along the sky, and almost eafene them.
And in great drops, at first, then literally in
torrents, the rain (poured down, wottin gt em
to the skins; an then, just' as they arrived
at a ve small clearing—which had been made
by therliiborers who made the road when they
encamped there for some time, and in cutting
timber for a bridge—the fearful foicc of a hur-
ricane burst upon them in its terriblemight.
It was so strong that it drove the heavy rain
alon horizontally. in a fine ’misa‘sent‘limbs
and feaves fl ing through the air, and dashed
hundreds ofytrees in every direction’to the
earth. ,

“My father must not ride on-—the_ great
trees will fall and crush him i" said Thayem-
danegea to Sir William, who, in his fear andl
confusion of mind, was tryin to spuruhis
horse past the opening, which was their on]
place of safety from breaking limbs yand‘fal -
ing trees ; and the young Indian eutl ,‘bnt,

‘ firml , seized the bridle of the hero ct's‘. cases

and ed him' into the cents-o of the' clears
space, beckonin to the others to follow.

This they di as best they were able, for
their terrified horses were almost unmanagea-
ble. Yet the black stallion showed noji‘nore
sign of fear than his master. '

“By in life, lad, but 'th coolne’ssi‘has

' saved the whole of us i” exclaimed the ,baro- i

not, as he dismounted from his horse, 
ardcd anxiously the falling ‘treesl‘and‘pplgc
ranches, which were feelin the force o  9
hurricane. “ Dismount, chil ran—your hora?!
may start, and it would' be death, ,ccrtam
'death,rto'ride along that road now,” ' ‘

All obeyed but Thayendanegcs,"whosc
horse was perfectly manageable and gmct;
and Kathleen, who, ever Willful, and wishing
to a car well in the eyes of the young brayc.
wouid not leave her as dlc, though thcwhlfi

ony was quite as uneasy as any othcr'of the
orses. _

Soon she had cause to regret this 'fl‘okless-
uses; for, as a huge old hemlock cams crash-
ing to the ground, but a few yards fi‘om the-In,
the pony took fright. and, ia‘spitc of voice
and rain, bounded down the road, and she
could not stop him.

“Do not move i" cried Thayendanc as to
her terrified father and relatives ; " I w ‘ save
her i" ’ '

And he gave a loose rein to his noble horse,
and with a word urged him forward, In a
moment—and it was not a secondtcto icon-fine
was at her side, for a huge old pins, that had
numbered centuries where‘it' stood, resch an
instant, and came crashing through the other‘
trees, right toward the spot where ‘slic‘w'as.
With a giant's stren th, the'youn In‘dianhcnt
and snatched her rcm thc‘ss’d ls with‘onc
amiwmle he wheeled his‘ horte with‘thc
other. and struck him in thciflanksiwith‘bdth

wheels. ’ With "one mi 11' bound? editor"
8 1‘? 2,331“

leaped‘back clear-.0! the danger," c the
pong. used from itsfburthen,“bo‘undsd“fpr-
'w i and escaped 'b’eingcrn‘shsdr—b onlya

fifteen, and the'hugc tree fell y when

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Mrs-«1‘1» u~.......

10 The New York Library.

 

she would have been had it not been for the
arm of the bold young brave.

Thayendanegca, bearing Kathleen tenderly
in his arms—for she was now senseless from
terror—rode back to the group in the clearing,
and resigned her to the care of her father and
sister, who, almost dumb with fear and anx-
iety, had witnessed her eril and her rescue.

“ God‘s life, ladl you lave done a deed of
which an knight in Christendom would be
proudl on have saved my daughter's lifel
Ask any gift in my owor, and it shall be
thine l Speak out, In , and be not afraid of
an denial i” cried the overjoyed baronet.
“ ven if it be her hand as thy bride, thou
shalt have itl”

“ Thayendanegea asks nothing. The Pale-
Rose is safe, and he is contented!" said the
brave youth, even though her eyes were
openin upon him with a look of love and

ratitu e, for she had so far recovered asto
ear and understand her father’s words.

She sighed as she heard his calm rep] ,and
her bosom rose and fell. and the color in her
cheeks went and came, and two pearl tears
came out of her great blue eyes, an stole
silently down her cheeks —-wherefore, she
scarce y dared to ask herself.

The storm passed away almostas ra idly
as it ha!l come up, and before the hour 0 the
sun‘s setting arrived, all was still again, and
not a cloud obscured its golden path when it
went down beneath the blue-billed horizon in
the west.

Thayendanegea brought back the white
pony, which had stopped just beyond the
great fallen pine, too much terror-stricken to
run further, and the party remounted, now
resumed their wa toward Johnson Bali,
although they con d proceed but slowly in
consequence of the man fallen trees across
their path, most of whic they were obliged
to pass around, for the were so protected by
their chevauz-ds-frisc 0 branches that to leap
over them was frequently impossible.

Night was upon them before they emerged
from the wood, but the bright moon and
countless stars shone from a cloudless sky,
and darkness did not incommode them The
atmosphere, made cool and pure by the elec-
tricity of the storm, was bracing and delight-
ful, and the past danger was almost forgotten
in the pleasure of the present, except by one,
who. silent and half—tearful, rode as near to
her prescrveras she could. I need not say
who it was.

When the party arrived at the hall, Ipisico
and Guy were on the piazza watchin them.

“ By heaven! they are all back as e!” mut-
tered Guy, discontentedly, as they rode up.
“ The devil wouldn’t hear my prayer, or two
of them would have had their necks broken l”

“The Great Spirit must have held his hand
above them i” said the Indian.

“ Remember the white pony and the black
stallion, to-nightl” said Guy, as he rose and
went into the house, so as to avoid the neces-
sity of speaking to the party who were dis-
mounting. ,

“ I have spoken, and I will do that which
my brother wants done I” said the young In-
disn, as he followed.

CHAPTER XV.

Night, still and calm, lay lightly over the
earth, for the moon and stars looked softly
dowu upon it, mirroring their sweet faces in
the lakes, silvering the rippling streams and
gemming the cascades an rushing brooks—-
making the dew-drpips glitter on the a ray,
and peeping in ami the branches an the
flowers, playing hide-and-seek with the sha-
dows as the branches gently waved to and fro.

It was midnight, or after, when Sir William,
—who ever slept lightly, he had lived so long
amid danger—was aroused by the most tern-
ble shrinks and outcries in the direction of the
stables, also by the wild, shrill neighings of a
horse.

Hurricdly he arose, throw on a night-wrap-

er, thrust his feet into a pair of slippers, and,

urried out to see what was the matter. On
his wav to the door, he met his son John and
also Thayendanegea. who had been aroused b
the same alarm. And as they went town
the stables they found several of the sorvants
ha in thitherward; but what most aston-
' hie? tEem, was the si ht of two of the

rooms, who slc t in the oft over the stables,
draggingforth t 9 body of what seemed to bo
an ndiau. but so horribly crushed and dicv

 

figured about the face and body that he hardly
looked like a human being.

“ Who is this, and what is the matter l"
cried the baronet, as he approached the spot
where the men, without much care, had tossed
their bloody burden upon the turned-up bot-
tom of an old sleigh body.

“It is that bloody young Injin that our
honor has been treating so well, and wit iout
he is plum dead, he hasn‘t got half what he
deserves, sir 1” said the groom.

“,What. Ipisico? What has he been doing ?”

“ Look at the knife still in his hand. sirl
The white pony which on gave twenty
guineas for—the one that iss Kathleen rides
—lies in the stall with its throat cut-and the
red hound was going to serve the black stal-
lion the same we , but the bitsr got bit there,
thank the Lord The stallion wasn’tto be
can ht nap ing, and has kicked the life out
of t e mur ering villain, I hope!"

“God's life. what a wretchl What can
this mean? Who can have put the young
fiend up to this work? He surel had no
reason for such a dastardly cot. omc one
must have impelled him to it i”

“ Where is Guy? He must sleep very
sound not to be awakened by all the noise
which has been made i" said John.

“Go and find him! This matter must be
investigated. And call Doctor Daly: we must
get life enou h into this roaning dog to find
out why he id it I" crie Sir William.

'I‘hayendaneges, who had been to the stable
to see if his horse was injured, now returned,
and while John hurried to fulfill his father's
orders, the young bravo stood with folded
arms and regarded the writhings and groan-
ingc of the injured Ipisico with unconcealed
pleasure

“Vesuvius has spoiled the beauty of the
Squaw-face l" he said, as he looked at the
scarcely discernible features of the young In-
dian, and remembered how much he had
prided himself upon the regularity of those
oatnres.

In a few moments, John returned with the
doctor, and also reported, that he had found
Guy asleep. “ But,” he added to Thayendane-
gen, in a low tone, “I believe he was playing
possom, for he never was so hard to wake
before 1” ‘

“He is a snake, and Ipisico has been his
tool! Both are fools l” replied the onng
brave, in a tone as low as that used y the
other.

“ Well, doctor, how badlth the dog hurt i”
asked the baronet, after t a .physician had
spent some time in examining 0 Indian with
true professional roughness.

In a bro us so rich and sweet that it would
have delig ted an oflice-seeking Scott, even
more than “ the forci n accent of the Ger-
man," Doctor Daly rep 'ed:

“ Bedsd. it’s as purty a smash-up as ever I
saw, Sir William! One arm broken, a shout
dcr knocked out of joint, s collar-bone s lin-
tsred, three or four ribs staved in, as 'aw- one
cracked. a nose flattened into not ing, and
half the teeth dropped out or swallowed!
Bejabcrs, it’s as purty a piece of work as I’ve
seen since I left the ould counthry l”

“ Will the fellow die or live 1’”

“Sure, sir, if he’s roperly attinded to, I
don’t see why he shou d die ; but he’ll need
Ideal of mending to put him in any kind
of shape, and the beaut of the hosts, if ever he
had any, is gone from im forever. The whole
print of a horse's fut will remain in his ugly
countenance till he dies and rots I”

“So much the better!" said the baronct.
“ Can he answer a question?"

“ Not with that broken jaw of his very
asily, Sir Willaim ; but wait till I wash the
blood down his throat with a drop 0’ brandy,
and maybe he'll understand one, and answer
ye b signs."

“ hat is the matter here? Why. is this
Ipisico, poor Ipisico 9" asked Guy, who now
came forward, drowsily, as if ‘ust awakened
from a sleep as deep as that w ich held Rip
Van Winkle in bonds.

“ You reco izc him more quickly than I
could,” said e baronet, casting a suspicious
glance at his nephew.

“I knew him by his dress—how did he get
hurt Y" asked the innocent Guy, approaching
still t1ploser, and bending over the bleeding

on .
y “Betray me not, or you diol” he whis-
pered, as the young Indian’s eyes opened upon
1m.

But the latter, who could not speak, ex.

 

hibited no lens-are at seeing him ; but, on the
contrary, t 1e most violent anger, pushing him
awn with his sound arm.

“ ho told you to kill the horses ?" asked
Sir William, seeing that the Indian was con-
scipus.

The latter pointed to Guy, and vainly tried
to s eak.

“ t is an infernal lie—I never did I” shouted

u .

“yAn‘ what did you bid him not to betray
you for, just now, sir i” asked the physician,
who had overheard his whispered caution and
threat.

“ I did not i” boldly replied the unblushing
youn man. .

“ ou didn‘t whisper to him, but a blessed
moment ago, ‘Betray me not, or you die !’ and
I didn't hear you do it i’"

M No I”

“ Ipisico, ye red rascal, ye‘ll not tell a lie
when mayhs you’ll die in an hour. Did
Master Guy t are caution or threaten you, or
not 1’"

The young Indian, though writhing with
pain, nodded his head affirmatively.

“It is a vile lie—yon both lie l" shouted
Guy, now livid with rage, at being so fairly
cornered.

“ Master Guy Johnson, you are the nephew
of a baronct, and the son of an Irish jmtle-
man, and I‘m only a poor followerof the great
Esculapius, but, b the powers 0' light and
darkness, if you on‘t ate those words, and
apologize for them in just one minute, I'll
horsewhip you till you wear all the colors of
the rainbow on your dirty back!" said the
doctor, dropping his instruments and snatch-

in up a team-whip, which happened to be!

lying near at hand.

“Touch me if you dare, you miserable
devil 1” shouted Guy, who was now actually
beside himself with rage, forgetting who was

yThe doctor waited for no second invitation,
but plied the whip with a heavy; and a skill-
ful hand, and with such effect t at Guy in an
instant ran yelling to the house. pursued by
his now heated punisher, who gave him a cut
at every leap, and only relin uished the pur-
suit when the young villain ad entered the
house.

The doctor now returned to the baronet,
and said :

“ I beg your pardon, Sir William, for using
this weapon in your resence, but I’ve borne
insult and injur too ong from that fellow to
stand more, an I‘ll let no man livi call me
a liar to 111 face, when I’m only spaking truth
before G and man i”

“ I do not blame you at all, Daly,” said Sir
William ; “ he richly deserved more than you

we him, and if he were not the son of my

and brother, he should not rest another hour
beneath my roof 1”

“Would you have me patch n this oit o'
disfiguration, Sir William 1’” asked the doctor,
much pleased at not incurring blame from his
patron, while he pointed at Ipisico.

“ Yes, do the best you can for him. I do
not blame him so much now as I did; for I see
plainly that Guy has but used him as a tool
In the matter. The Indian knew no better,
and Guy did. Use all your care and skill for
the poor devil—when he gets able to talk he
ma tell us all about it!”

l’pisico, whose eyes till now had only flash.
ed anger and hatred, seemed touched by these
words of the old nobleman, and seizing the
hand. of the latter, he pressed it to his heart.
and looked grateful at him, as if to express
thanks for the one kind expression, when he
so little deserved it.

“ Let the men carry him in carefully,
Dst i” said the barcnet, “ and order any-
thiug’from my stores which you deem neces-

“ I‘ll do all that lays in my ower, Sir Wil-
liam i” said the doctor, as the arouet return-
ed to his house and bed, for the chill night
air did not feel vcr comfortable to an e" ‘rly
man, thinly dra

“ I didn’t know that you was a master of‘

two professions before, doctor 1” said John
Johnson. after his father had left.

“ It bothers the sowl 0’ me to know what
ye mane, Master John!" said the doctor, with
a puzzled look. .

“ Why, you‘re a doctor to begin with, and
a first-rate dancing-master to boot. I never
saw any one learn a running hornpipe quicker
gap. cousin Guy did, inst now, in all

e ’ .

 

 

i

Thayendanegea, the Scourge.

,_11

 

 

“ Faith, if he keeps on as he’s begun, he’ll
learn. like Dick Turpin, to dance on nothin’
in the end, with a bit 0‘ twisted flax knotted
under his earl One thin is sure, he‘ll never
die like a Christian, in his lied, or, like a dacent
man, on the field of honor l"

“Maybe he‘ll challenge you in the morn-
ing,” said John, with a laugh.

i “Divil the bit will he. There’s no such
‘good luck in store for Pat Daly as to make
him die a gintale death, with a bit 0‘ lead
snug laid in the right spot. But if he can
hire a red auger—I beg your pardon. Master
Thayendanegea, it’s not the likes 0' you I
mane, so you needn't look so black at me—if,
I say, he can hire some one to stick a knife
into me in the night-time, why he'll be {pst
the one to get that sort 0’ satisfaction. at
I’ll be as like a potato as ifI was one—bless-
ed be the esculent forever, for it‘s the Para-
dise-ap do of my country—eyes all over and
none 0 'em asla el"

“ Hardl wou d he dare that i" said John.

“ The divil trust him for all me. The man
that would have the throat of a poor baste cut
to spite a poor, tender-hearted oun lady,
wouldn‘t spare me, I’m sure l"sai the octor.

While this conversation was going on, the

hysician had been busy in reparing Ipisico
or removal, and he now b e the men around
to take him up careful] ,and carry him to
the neat little hospital w ich Sir William had
built near his mansion.

CHAPTER XVI.

Upon the mornin after the occurrences
above mentioned, Sir William sent for his
as hew, ordering that he should_come to bin:
in is library.

After considerable dela , the young man
made his appearance, loo ing very much as
one would who had been caught stealing a
shee ,whippin a woman, or in some other
equa ly despica le action.

“ You are very tardy, nephew Gu , in
obeying my summons, this morning.‘ said
Sir William, not angrily, for he had just taken
his “ morning nip," to get up an ap etite for

ileflkfflfit. “ Methinks, if I'd sent r. Duly
.quer you, he would have hurried on up a
little. He is a famous hand at that I could
but admire your agility, and his skill. last
night 1"

-- it shall cost him his life l” muttered the
youth, angrily.

“ Tut. tut, sirl no such threats in my pres-
ence, or you will make me angry, and '1 cool
you down with a few Weeks on bread and
water, inadungeon. Dr. Daly is a entle-
man, and had he not groperly resents your
base insult, last night, should have deemed
it my duty to punish you. He did perfectly
right, air, and your legs saved on from what
you richly merited, twice as ard a flog ing
as he gave you. But it was not that of w ich
I intended to speak when I sent for you. I
now wish to know why ou hired or per-
suaded Ipisico to kill Kath ocn’s pony, an to
try and kill the horse that I gave to Thayen-
dane ea 1’”

“ nclc, I did not—"

“ Tut, tut, boy! you need not deny it! I
heard you warn the Indian, as well as did the
doctor. I detest a liar, and falsehood only
lessens you in my eyes. It blackens every
error to deny it. Repl to my question i"

“ You promised the torso to me, and then
gave it to that upstart Indian l" replied Guy,
sullenly. _ _

'“ I wish that you possessed one-twentieth
part of the honor, courage, and true manhood
of that Indian boy! But about the horse.
You never could ride him, never even at-
tempted to fulfill the conditions upon which
he was promised to you, until he was given
away, and then, when you tried, you was of!
like a rotten apple shaken from a tree But
why, in Heaven's name, did you make him kill
podr Kathleen’s pony ?"

“ Because she taunted me when I was
thrown, and offered me her pony and side-
saddle to ride!"

“ Mere girlish play, and unworthy of notice
from you, who, at your age, ought to be a
man!"

“ Besides, she is in love with this Thaycn-
dsne ea!" said Guy. _

“ hat is that to you? If she is, she only
acknowledges the worth of a noble heart, and
I am glad of it. But yesterday he saved her
life at the peril of his ownu If he ware to
ask her hand. at a proper age, it should never

I

 

be denied to him by me. But of that no
more. You have done very wrong. so wron
that were it not for the memory of your dead
father, I would not let on rest beneath m
roof another dayl As it is. you must submit
to punishment which will teach you better
nereafter 1"

Guy was startled at the thought of being
dgprived of a home. for, if his uncle cast him
0 , he was penniless. Moreover, he loved
Leonore as much as, in his selfish nature, he
was capable of loving, and hoped. when he
was once united to her, to be made indepen-
dent by the dowry which she would receive
from a fond and indulgent father Therefore,
he felt that it was time for him .0 lower his
colors, and act humble, even if be [all no no
mility.

“ I am very sorry for what I have done, sir.
and will meet the penalty without a inuru
murl" he said, in a contrite tone.

“If your penitence is not assumed,I am
glad to see it!" said the baronet. “ Hitherto
your spending allowance has been the same
that I have given to John—five guineas a
month. Half of that I shall hold back. until
twent guineas, the price of Kathleen‘s pony,
is me e up."

3‘ You can keep back all, sir—J have in
right to murmur, since it is your generosity
alone which allows me anything!"

“Not a word, sir! My judgment in this
matter is imperative! For your attempted
wrong to Thayendanegea, you must apologize
publicly to him I"

“Uncle, ou surely will not make me so
lower inyse f as to apolo ize to him I”

“ Lower yourself, air, by an apology to one
as much your superior as day is to niglitl If
you, who could hire an i nornnt savage to do a
dastardly deed in the night, which on dared
not do, can lower yourself still urther, I
would like to know how it can be done i" cried
the baronet, now thoroughly angry. “ Come,
sir. not a word! There is Tha endanegea,
with John and your cousins, coming in from
their morning walk. Either go up to him
like a man, and say you are sorr for what
you have done, and ask his or on, or else
save my house forever! I w'l have no, one
around me who can deliberately do a base
wrong to another, and refuse to repair it, so
far as he can. You hear me, sir ?"

Guy knew that he could not trifle with his
uncle then, and that for him all was lost, un-
less he obeyed the mandate instantly. There-
fore, he advanced to the approaching party.
and said :

“ The endanegea, I tried to have our
horse killed last nightl It was all my ault,
not that of Ipisico. I am sorry for it—will
you forgive me 1’"

The young brave stopped short, and looked
at Guy with quiet wonder—looked at him
keenly. as if he would read his motive for this
most unnatural act on the part of Ga , so
unlike his general character, but in e no
reply.

“ orgive him, Thayendaneges, for my sake
even as I forgive him for having my poor

ony killed I" said Kathleen, and tears started
rom her blue eyes.

“ I forgive cu, for the sake of the Pale
Ross!" said T iayendane ea, with gentle di
nit; “ And if you will a man now,I w'
be our friend l’

nd he adVanced and ofl’ered Guy his hand.

The latter could not refuse it, but a burn
ing blush overspread his face while he tool'
it, and he felt indeed that the Indian when
he affected to despise was his superior.

The .aronet, who had closely watched the
actions of both, was struck with the noble
dignity of the young brave, both in his ac-
tions and his words.

“ God’s life, but the lad is fit for a throne l”
he said to himself. .

The party passed into the house now, for
the breakfast-bell was rin 'ng. There were
tears in the eyes of both onore and Kath-
leen. as they passed along. And they were
sot tears of grief.

.OHAPTER XVII.

Moodily, With the fire of anger and of hate
burni deep into his heart, On Johnson
walks far awa into the beautiful grove
back of the mansion, on the mornin when he
made his forced apolo , for he ha no sp
tite for breakfast, and szt the table as soon
as he could do so, without attracting particu-
lar attention.

(

 

And when he had got beyond hearin of
those in the house, bitter curses rose rom
his lips, and his an ry words were not onl
many, but loud. Ife did not know that he
was closely followed—followed by one whose
heart ached, not only for his troubles, but
also to hear such terrible language from his
lips. He did not know but that he was alone,
until a cutie hand was laid upon his shoul-
der, an a sweet voice said :

“Guy, dear Guy, do not talk so— on are
surely raving, and do not mean w ist you
as l"

31‘ I do mean every word I utter, Leonore i"
said he, impatiently. “ What business have
you to follow me like a spy, and overhear
whaz.) I sa ?" dc G h d k

“bin,” u,w oyonss
so to me! Ton will bzeak thy heart l"ps:id
the weeping girl.

“ Women‘s hearts are made of leather—
there is no danger of their breaking l”

Her sobs were the only reply to his unmanly
words. .

“ Everybody hates me and wrongs me i"
he continued. r

“ Oh, no, no! I love you, and never wrong-
ed );iou in thought, word, or deed l" she rec

lie . v

“ My uncle. because he has taken a liking
to a heathen bear of an Indian, first robs me
.0 please him, and then forces me to the al-
ternative of either becoming a homeless out-
cast, or of bending my proud neck and knee
to his upstart favorite, humbling myself to
an Indian dog—for that Thayendaneges is
but a dog l"

" You wrong him, Guy; he is brave, intel-
ligent, and honorable! But yesterday he
saved Kathleen's life, when a falling tree
would have crushed her i"

“ Curse him and her! I wish to God that
it had crushed than: both I”

“ Oh, Guy, Guy, how can you be so
wicked ll" .

“ And you. too. must take up for this grace
less heathen! Perhaps you want him for a
husband I” he cried.

“ Guy, you do me a foul wrong, and sick
words come with an ill grace from your lips
to one who has stood by you so often when
she knew you were wrong, and has so often
dared her father’s anger to avert it from your
head l" »

“Clear out, then. and leave me alone, if

on don’t like in words! I didn’t ask you
follow me!" said he. in the most brutal .
tone.

“ Guy, dear Guy, even this will I bear, for
the love I feel for you i’" she cried, wee ing'.
andkattempting to put her arms aroua his
use .

With a bitter curse, he thrust her from
him, with such force that she fell, and her
head coming in contact with the sharp edge
of a stone, received a terrible cut. The blood .
gushed out in s lar e stream, for a small ar-
tery in the temple ad been divided. But tbs

oor irl was not sensible of pain—she had

inte .' ' .

When he saw blood, the anger of the heart
less wretch gave wa to terror. .

“ My God. I have illed her I" he groaued
“ What shall I do I what shall I do 1' -

“ Go get water I" said a stern voice, and
the same white-haired, venerable, and feeble-
looking Indian, whom we have once before
spoken of, as being seen in that same ys.
stepped forward from amid a clump‘o small
spruce trees, to the astonishment an increased
terror of the song villain. V ‘

" What shall I bring it in f” asked the tar» r
rifled outh. ‘

“ t,” and the Indian touched the glazed
cap‘ on Guy's head.

he latter hurried awa to a brook, whose
distant murmurings cou d reach the car.
while the old Indian bent-upon his knees, and
raised the head of the poor 'rl. Her, coun-
tenance was as white as the eat of a lil , and,
life seemed almost to have deserteJ‘ her.
With a firm hand he held the arts of the
wound closely together, then ta ing a scarf
from her neck. bound it so tightly around her'
temples that he checked the flow of blood.
And when flip water came, he washed awa
the blood-stains, bathed her face, and we
her lips Wit: some of it. '

Withl ee sih,shco nedhsr so.
“a “him-ed  of “fixing conscidus-
ncss. r .

“ Where am" Oh, Iremsmber 2” she sold, .
with a shudder. “ Guy was angry. and struck

a

’_" "-45,

 

 

 

!-
l
i

 

    
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
   
   

 

' Indisn‘ quie

 

12 .The \New York Library.

him a horse, guns, and many presents, And .

me!" and she closed her eyes again, as if to
shut out the vision of oruel remembrance.

“Who 'are‘ on, sir, that are so kind to
me 1’" she as ed, a moment after, as she
looked up at the kind and pitying face of the
Indian, who supported and still bathed her
head with the cool water.

“A friend, daughter of the pale face-a
friepld to the, good and the innocent!" he re-

lie . '

p “What is the matter with me? I am hurt;
my] hes‘d'fee'ls pain l”' murmured the poor
gir.

“Yes, [that squaw-hearted bo cast you
a ainsta rock He' is a' poor og to raise
his hand against a Woman, and should be
whipped with rods l”

\Guy stood near, with down-cast looks, but
said nothing, for he was not so utter] grace-
less but that he‘ could feel scheme for his
worse than distardly conduct.

“I forgive him—he was blind with anger,
and did not know what he did,” said the
sweet and gentle girl.

“ I am very sorr ; do not tell my uncle of
it, Leonore’,” said t e young man; “I never
will a eak harshly to on again."

‘“ I h'o'is his uncle? ’ asked‘tbc Indian, ab-
ruptlv.“

“ William Johnson f” replied the fair,

L ,
mt‘Ughl'a bad man—a bad man !" said the
Indian, and a‘ cloud, black as night, overspresd
his sall‘ow face.

“Hefis'my father,” said Leonora, gently;
“if he'has‘ ever done ,wrong to you,I am

so ' l"

[The old Indian, sighed, but he said no more.
Guy'i‘eye flashed, and an expression of satis-
faction came over his face, when he heard the
words and saw the look upon the face of the
strap Indian. .

“‘Iggil‘l assist my cousin to the house," said
he, “ and, then I will come back, for I wish
to tklk ’with“ you. I may do' you. good in
return for our kindness to her l” I

“ N6" ood can come from evil !” replied
the ’Indi ii, sternly; “ but come alone, and I
will wait!”

1 s youn' (man now helped oor Leonora

back to the ouse‘, where he to d a story of
her‘ha'vin stumbled and fell against a rock,

which sh "was too good-hearted to contra-

dicfi'étén'though he had been so brutal in
we d and deed, and now so unblushingly told»
whim-sis. ' I

The’baro'net. deepl alarmed, instantly sent
for hili‘physician, whi e'G'uy returned to the
grov to seek a further interview with the
strsli , Indian. ‘ ‘ .

CHAPTER XVIII.

Seated uppn the rock which was stained,

by the'pu're‘blbod 6f gentle Leonora, the old
I ‘4 fly remained until Guy Johnson
c‘sme'b‘dckf, , ' t . ‘
“B'y‘fih’d words‘you used, and the look
upon grannies, when on spoke of Sir Wil-'
liam' hnsoniuny unc e, I suppose you hate

him?“ ss‘id‘Giiy, is he stoppedin’frontfol

the strangerwho did not rise at his up,
proac'hl'“ "i “ ‘ ‘ ‘
“Ido? V What of that t” said the Indian.

brulptiy.” , V .
“ hate him, too—«wish he was 'dead I" said
Guy,’bitterl'y¥ ,

“Yet he feeds'you—gives you clothes to
kee " ou'wsrm—yo'u sleep under his roof !”
“fifths Indian, and an expression of contempt
flittdd'jov'er his face,‘ like a shadow upon a gray
rock‘.‘ " " 4

“I a his brother’s son—he ought to do
it!"  dith‘e latter, evasively. “Besides, he
wrou “me—has let a young Indian upstart
sup ant‘mc'in his love "

" h is this Indian upstart 2"

“TM énd‘ne‘gea, the son‘of one Dyagetto
the woman who brought him and his sister
from the"far-'ofl' Ohio- but I hear that she
shims t6 be 8 Mohawk, for she is With them
at one “of their villagesu the river."

I! Guy had been'loo ing at the Indian
when he spoke, he would have been terrified
at the sad en change in his countenance—the
varied expressions there—when he made his
statements; but the young man was look-
in back, to see if he had been watched or
fol owed, and, when‘his eyes again met those
of the Indian, the latter was as calm as he had
secularism.“ '

“AM ‘ on s‘aySir William treatsthis young '

Indian With kindness 9” continued the stranger.
. “Yes: he has adopted him as a son, given

 

puff] ‘ '

he has placed his sister, like a lad , with his
own daughters—dressed her as we] on them!"

“ But Dyagetto does not stay with her
children ?"

“ No ; but she comes often to see them."

The old Indian did not ask any more ques-
tions, but sat and silently watched Guy, seem-
ing to study his thoughts.

“ You seem poor,” said the latter, looking at
the worn and rugged blanket and stained hunt-
ing-shirt and leggins of the old Indian.

“ I am,- but what of that ?" replied the old
man, drawing his blanket up proudly over his
broad chest.

“ I can better your fortune."

“ How? You have nothing that I want ”

“ You do not know that. Can you shoot l‘”

“ Can a fish swim ?" asked the Indian, in
contemptuous relplly.

“ Of course now that you can shoot
game; but if you had an enemy, could you
shoot him ?"

“ If he was worth killing, yes I”

“Well, Sir William Johnson, you say, is
your enemy. He is mine, also! will give
you a new rifle, hatchet, and knife. plenty of
powder and lead, and new blankets and
clothes, if you will lay in wait for him in
the woods, and shoot him, the next time he
goes to the fish-house l”

“ He is your father's brother, eh i" asked
the Indian, in a tone and with a look which
would imply that he was seriously thinking of
the reposition.

“ es," answered Guy.

“ And you love his daughter, the lily which
you bruised this morning ?”

“ Yes, and when he is dead I will marry
her.”

“He brought you up since you was a little
helpless boy, without father and mother, did
he not ?" v

“ Yes; but how do you know that? Have
you ever seen me before this day ?”

“ Yes, yes, a hundred times, when you was
too small to crawl over a log.”

“ Well, well, it matters not. What is your
answer to m proposition?”

“ That I thank the Great Spirit I am not a
pale-face! Do our own murders! I am
not an assassin.” said the old Indian, and,
turning roudl upon his heel, he dies peered
in the t ick g oom of the grove, be ore the

outh had recdvered from the surprise into
which the indignant and bitter tone of the
scornl‘ul Indian had thrown him

“ B heavens, what a fool I am I” he mutter-
ed,w en he found himself alone. “I should
have killed the old wretch, for he possesses
my secret, thought and intent, and if he should
make it known to my’ uncle, my every hope
would be blasted. I will never venture out
without m gun again, and, if I see him, I
will shoot‘him as I‘would a wolf !"

“Shoot him, and I will shoot on?” said
Theyendanegea, quietly, but firm y, as he
stepped out from behind the trunk of a huge
pine tree within a few feet of him.

“Why? Do you know him i" cried Guy,
turning pale, and trembling from head to
foot.

“ No !” answered the young brave. " But
he is an old man and an Indian—he is ood,
for he would not do a murder at our bid ing!
You could not hire him, as you id Ipisico, to
do your wicked work! You are less than a
do —-—that would never bite” the hand which
fe it 1”

“ Why should you act the sp upon me 2"

“ Because our heart is blue er than mud!
You are ba —too bad to livel I will watch
eve? step on take, and, if you raise our
ban or on eye to one thing which I ove,
or is helpless, I will kill you as I would a
snake!”

“I so ose on will 0 and tell m uncle
of this III’IIdtWrI”  - y

“ I am no tale-bearer !" proudly replied the
young Indian. “ I can watch over him with-
out putting more fear or hatred in his heart.
But you' must not cross my path, or study evil
to him or his, or I will kill you! I have
spoken, and I cannot speak a lie !"

.Tha endanegea said no more, but, with a
bitter oak of contempt and scorn, turned upon
his heel and went toward the mansion leaving
the baflled nephewof the laronet in no enVi-
able state of mind.

 

CHAPTER XIX.

It was the custom with Dr. Daly, ML,
O’Whackem, and Mr. Lafferty, the barouet's
secretary, to meet at twelve o’clock each da ,
or immediately after the schoolmaster had dis-
missed his pupils to their dinner, to partake
of a lunch and its spiritual accompaniments,
in a pleasant little refmctory ad'oining the
hospital, for these gentlemen all dined at the
baronet’s table at a later hour. And it was
the occasion, generally, for a lively bit of gos-
sip, for, all three being Irishman, they could
no more get along without talking, than a co-
quette without a string of beaux. Thus they
kept their s irits up, while the spirits and the
jokes went own.

“ How does your new patient look this
morning, doctor dear 1’” asked O’Whackem of
Daly, as he poured out his glass of brandy, at
lunch time.

“ Very much as if a horse had kicked him,”
replied the doctor, with a smile, as be ex-
tended his hand for the bottle. '

“ He‘ll be apt to prefer your healing power,
to the healing way of the ould stallion, I’m
after thinking," said Lafl’erty, reaching in turn
for the brand .

“He’s diviliysh impatient for a patient," said
Daly, as he he] ed himself to a slice of cold
tongue and a co (1 potato

“ He’ll know better than to be so horn-style
again I” said Lafi‘ert ,

“ Och, ye blackguard, ye ought to be con-
victed, without judge or jury, of murder!"
cried O‘Whackem.

“ Murder 0’ what, e old pedagogue 9" re-
plied Lnfferty, in the est humor ossible.

“The king's English, Misther uilldriver,”
said the schoolmaster, as he sliced off a bit ol
boiled ham.

“ It’s a pity that Master Guy hadn’t got a
touch of punishment from the haste," said
Lafferty.

“ Sure he got a ood enough basting from
’me, I’m athinking " said Daly, with a lau h,

“ Why, his wasn’t so much of an error, a ter
all," said O’Whackem. “ He might have
been thinkin’ of the neglected harp of cor
ould Erin, when he called you ‘a blasted lyrs’
-—-d’ye mind the point, now ?”

“ Sure the tune he, limped on was s forbid-
den one, as far as I’m concerned,” said Daly
“Pass over the bleed, Lafl’erty, if e’re not
too busy upon the hind shoulder o’ t at hog."

“ D’ e know what on put me in mind of
then, octor I" asked Iliafi'erty.

“No, sure—without it was that I considered
ye better bred than I, and wanted to take I
slice of vol” ,

"No, suie—it wasn’t that, at all. Ye put.
me. in mind of the Lord’s prayer, blessed be
Hisnamcl”

“Wall, ’tis lucky] did, for it’s seldom ya
think of anything godly; but, for the life 0'
me, I can't see how I reminded ye 0’ what I
know ye're not much acquainted wit ."

“ Didn’t you ask for daily bread, ould thick-
skull f” _

“Be jsbers, I did, and you had 130,130 
Pass along the brandy, for I thirst for c
spirit!”

“ Then ye ought to go and work in this
corn-field awhile I"

“ And why should I do that f”

“ Doesn't the good book say flies all ye who
thirst,’ I’d like to know 1’”

“Faith, you have me again! I wish ys'd
take the fever and ague l”

“ For why, ould pill-box! So ye could
dose me and bleed me a bit 9"

“ No; I only want to 'see ya ishook up a
little; you’re gettin’ to be too smart on top,
and too [dull below. You want ualisin .
just, you see, as I squalise this randy by
putting a little drop 0’ water in it.”

“And wakening the spiritl Sure it’s not
your advice I'll be sfther takin', doctor dear. T

“ His advice is better than his medicine
I’m thinkiu’ 1" said O’Whackem.

“ Wait till you try 'em both, before you
pass, judgment,” said the doctor. ~

“ I’d rather see the sexton and gravestone-
cutter first. so as to make all my preparations
for adecent burial l” .

f “Let me write your epitaph !" cried-Lat.
etty. .
“ What would it be, Misthcr Gooscqnill I"
asked the schoolmaster.

“ The like 0’ this," said Lafl'ertv:

“ Hen lies ould schoolmaster o'wmkcin:
hard until he. bl” 3m Willemk him.’

“Faith, he’d throw on down as unsound
sn‘ not worth the crac ' 'l” said the school-

 

 

Thayendanegea, the Scourge.

13'

 

 

master with a laugh.

Thus these three worthies spiced their lunch,
but ituvns. soon .oversand they returned to
theiruditi‘crent avocations. quite reh‘eshedv in
bodysnd mind.

CHAPTER .XX. .
0n the-morning. succeeding. theenight when
lipisicocsme. so near getting .his well-merited
ydesertsnoflliaving. the life kicked .out of..him,
' Sir William sent a runner to Are hyadeckm to
as paint himthstuhis son .had , ecu injured,

sn .wasin serious danger. Thoughithe‘runs
nor, after delivering his message, started in.-
stantly upon his return, and wnslwwll known
to.be one of, the swiftest of ,his alsss, the. old
shiefquipkly, outstripped him. and longerst
had even sightedutlie chimney-tops of- S‘Johny
son Hall," had passed its thresho d. endlstood
beforelthc heronct. .

‘3.WIN31'8 ianyrsonls—where is..lpisico!:—.
sniwho has-dared to hurt him W asked the
oldlMOhawk' with tremblinglfromesand. flesh.
ing-lc es..

“ itd
you,” replied the baronet. “He, hamput his
fingers in;the fire, and burned himself ”

The. chieflwho .knew. the. .bnronet,.well
enough to besure hemould.‘ gdn..notlnng_.by.
disobeying him, took the seat.

t‘ Pomioch, here 1 “Bring hmndyvandslwu
fortwo—pipes. also!" pried. the.,baronct to his
favorite servant. I

The oldchiet out very uneasily—for. a was;
de'r, e\;e,n..the_ anticipation ,of ,brandy and)».
Basso did .not, quiet. .his .feelings. ;

It soon,csine ;. and, after each .hsd,dnank s
gluothe bnmset. lighted his, pipe. and» corn ,
menced smoking, quietly and ,in,silenos. . FM,
8 timetthelndim prewrved.hie stoioism- hut
finally.the, feelin s of the parenttriumphsd,
overthe philost ly—iflsuch. it;can.be.termod.
—--of the, ndiunLand heabruptly, asked:

“ Where is Ipisico .’” ,

9.1a the. hospital,” .replied: Sir, Willi!!!»
withoutdeigning to giveuny further. explana-
tion.

The Indies rouldid not pause totalioh li-
:lasl., which the. baronet lied. refilled, . hut.

..wa1k.ed,!r:qm‘ the room» withouthttsris .s
.worii. and took: his, way hastilyto .the..gm
pite- . , . , _ . c
He 099s “her come beckmnd his new”
dark, very dark, with either gloom or, sugar,»:
Hewitt down. and, for. Him. sequined sileutu
He did not touclt.liis,,brandy,,hnd;.hor h‘dyle‘l
thefire in his.pipe go out. I p _ .

Sir. .W'llism remelsedsswpmm-M heme“
drinking and smoking with nllthe; QMQ.WS:;
insble, , apparently. not, noticing , the. ,_l opks ,pr
the,.,,old_chief, yet. from I under ,his over;
basalt-slivers: casting. muny‘ 8‘ Punk.- and.
searching l_s_.nce.at.,hi.m. No; In we could,
ever-beat“ im, either-in; the,,,study,.pf the;
thopg‘hts, etuanother, or,.in.:c_oflpe,allngl.h}l4

‘ own. For ears,” ofiuialwiatten anthem;
councils—o to; the skple aabitegpof.
Marthe. me ism-J mg :m. 0m; mite-v
ceived, s11. theirspmestefromuthe En “sh
sovemmfiutwhqmad sobeoome and to_ t can.
thst nei or t eirartsmnpna personal dang.
ger.tu.lua1self.. could throw.  Dims-sum,
or roMiim.othisulf-peuesuon- ,. _. , .

“ What or‘who hurt, guy-son. w.,tcnibl37 _
He never‘will bes.men..sgsin l” st.lsst.smd
the.  - _ _ I _ , l

“ Hanover, ouglit,to;bo l”.s,s,id Sir William,
sterulye '5 If he had been. sneaks w I.
not have been hurt l”. and he, then-detailed
the Jittempt of ,lpisicoto kill,.the houses,.sndi
its result. _ I ,_ ,

Ths'pldpohief listened. an silence. until 2 flu
baronettwps thrpu h. ,Thenhc “Id;

“'3‘ .mp0!” a. nil . I, sm..sorry,.
not; ' ed. I..w."l.ne;him.no .morol . . n.
he somwulkmsndhhiin. wsygfrornyomhut
not ,to mentor-hen shsl never enter my
ledge !" s u i . ‘.

«No—,1 will .be kind humour! try.”

intakes nod memo! the Pound themme

hod skier.muse,.ng_-;epiy.yb..ramp H
his bran , “lighted hll.:plpe, .uid went
thye

I
h

heads.

of ism, as recorded amour pile,”
to, V r it :9”! 8.. ,en-..
3: "he igghggdlifiongiefidfifliuhz hell ,
miles)! 111.08. untilrhe entered the. forced:
whirl! loywsstwsrdhfvthe house. Here he

/”‘

own and calm yourselfimnd I will tell '

. ,. rimstone—fidiu vet I lives oril”.crie' ‘H‘n "

; ‘,ERXXI.. I ,,.
gs £533...» ,lefirfihs mwosz

moved on more rapid]? .
narrow and straight, as ndian paths gener-
sll are. which led toward his vills‘e."He
he not proceeded far along this ro'n ,‘when
he was met by an individual, sosingular in
looks, dress, and character, that he' merits a
particular description at our hands, the more
especially because this is our first introduc-
tion to him. '
He was rethertsll, lean, and bony inflgure,‘
but‘his broad shoulders. long arms. and bowed
legs indicated considerabel sinewy strength.
His form was so bent forward, that, coupled
with Robert neck; it seemed to give him at
kind of humpbacked appearance. His head,
as large, more red, and” run as round as s
Kinderhook cabbagc.- was surmounted by a’
mop of tangled yellow hair; his eyes were.of
a glossy gray, generally dull and. heavy. yet
bright and flashing, when’ he was excited.
His nose was very small, and sunken in be-
tween his lsrge, puffy cheeks..like a small
squash between tw0 big pumpkins. His'
wide mouth, ever open, revealed a snag y set
' of. teeth; well colored with tobacco juice.
vItwould be hard to' judge of. his age—he
had such a dried u -look-_‘—-but he probably
was thirty, perhaps ve-yeers ahead of. it.
His dress was as odd'as hi personal up,
penance. A very ragged. old‘ t hat. minus
theirim, was on- top of, his head, and in its
crown‘tho» tail of a rscoon served for c plume,
A oosrsefroek. or hunting 1shirt, descending
to: his knees; and irded to’ his waist by a‘
stout ro e, made 0 I vtwisbed'mhon s of buck;

followin I trail,

stick together. served' to pertially'cover the"
upper port ‘of his person. Throu h the rents.‘
0 this a butternut-colored'flsnne ‘undershirt
could-be seen. ‘Trowsers, or hfierieg'gins."
of v undressed deer-skin, sud moccasins of
moose-hide, completed his» dress. ‘ .
A- powder-horn and bullet-muchwere'slung'
over his shoulder, and in‘ his“ belt-he wore a'r
knife andlhstehet. A lon pipe,“ r‘ed'ulay,
such as were used by the IJutoh of that day,
was also in his belt Upon his shoulder he
. son-led one of those heavy; long, bell-minded
pieces, brass-mounted and flint-locked, which
were known as the ‘3Queenfis Arm," csrryin
. an ounce and a ’hhl’i‘ ball, or, shingle bandits
oftslugsyadkthe cs ’ce'ofthe losfler‘dict‘fit/sd,
and calculated to o‘d'snmge- atanyjdistenee

, Mohawk chief in the trail".
, The latter started es-he sew him‘snd looked"
annoyed. for'it isA-well known thatr Indians :of'
f every-nation hold idiots and insane periods in“
‘ rev‘ersnce‘aed 'awe, and fear to either hand or“
_; displease them. ‘
‘1 It is How Yost’," 'muttered'thccold chief
v- “ Why: ihoulduhew cross ' n my“ '
gThree times I have see
:coniiull" I ~ . ‘ . ‘
‘4‘ s o. o t Devil» l-verd- or will“
-. the vilesyohl IBeen-sigittin‘trubk big-uncle;
gSirxPill‘s» rand "
:he steppe ,Aan brought thcbuttof hil eavy‘
gun down upon the-hard-grouudrwi’th ejar
;thut‘msdevits»-iron ramrod‘ring‘ini the- schist. '
-“,Why ter tuive’l ton‘t you spssk'vmit'me, you "
tam- red-skin fool‘l'“ he-added,»:.in' hirst' ' ’
.lDutch accent, as the old chief paused, but did!
mot fi'0?69 re  ‘ 
‘t y ieertis ea rend ton us in ’ w
;.-for wordsl"-replied 3w India. "ԤWhereu"il"
myrhrother gem “P” ‘
“ Goin’ vore ‘ er‘tuyvsl tells us to—vsr‘s “
there's - v-itchesrsrid Wiser-aspen“! 'pran‘d rand

n him-sincs‘ths sun”

, 'ost. ‘ “Show -.i:eil‘- air “we on" “’ ' ’ i'
go, oldiDev'il-bugP" y y u. fr?“ w
“Aroghyp'decks ’is ~not ~efraid’to‘ 0'
where Would-the ol‘d chief,
.hesrt rlrnowfi‘no Tear.” ,,
“Dst's ‘a‘tsmrlie, s Jtsmjliel" cried"HOn.'
Host. ‘ “‘You knows-potter ss-‘to gd to‘de cave ‘
r in de» rock. ., pelowz‘deerittle humor .fesr' "
. outhspe- tie speak of somebodyastarvs’d to"
ea , I. '
- (rho-Mohawk Iterted-an’d tre'mbl h ‘
‘1’" ‘rs‘txr rm“ "mid" 
“ ~ ‘ irit‘tell‘s ‘ev ' ‘
.muttersd he, utilise , j ' 19.3"“
._ H You! "tht‘Eo'nWost‘don't' Imo'w;'n64"f
Wally-knows, eld‘Devfl-hug 1" hid the” infinity
sm‘tlm wild Waugh.»an he ire-shouldered" his ,’
gum-sud went on, whils‘ths.‘cld chief movsd‘

‘stcrnly'.’

 

skin, on as ragged as‘it well con] fin and yet” ’

path" semen ' ‘

,‘ell?"~eried"the<.stran arm's? '

 .

For several minutes the chief stood and
watched the receding form of the German,
and his looks, while he did this, betokened
botli fear and hatred. But he said nothing,
and. when the man was hidden horn his view
by intervening bushes, the chief resumed his
course. I
‘ Hon Yost had not yet reached the clearing
of the Johnson domain, when a low whistle
from a clump of bushes uponhis right. caused
mm to come to. a sudden stop. While no
listened. the “too-whoot-too whoa-ah " of
on owl fell upon his ear from the same direc-
:ion‘that the sound of the whistle. had. come
rom. . .
,‘f’l’sm‘ few fcddcrs where dat. owl roasts!"
said Hon Yost. with a coarse laugh. " Come
outddere and show yourself,vMisliter Night-
ir‘ l"
p The same mysterious white-haired and
nameless Indian whomwelmve seen in con-
nectionwithiGuyflohnson a couple oftimes,
‘ ate pad out fromn sheltering clump of bushes,

an ' preached the ,spot, looking: cautiously

aroun to, see that no person was near to make
‘observntions. , .

' “ Why, all; gran-dad. is it you 9 .How, you

likes ter open air, eh? You git more strong.
' in da light dan in dark?" cried‘the Germans

‘ “' he free air is giving me strength, good
’ Hon Yost. and, I rwillnever. forgetthst you
’helped me to mereedom. But ~shall never

be again what} once was. My sinews are
‘ dried up, my eye-sight is dim, my bones coho, ,
. and my, muscles are weakl’.’ replied the Indian.

‘ “,Neveryou mind dat yet a viles, gran-dad l.
1; Ildoesn‘t know’vot ou haspeen, for uy, ou’ll
not'iiell rue. but I inks' dere is a cootdzal‘fl'of
de man, left in youyyet, and I mean .to pring it
'outz'for cg. you some vay p'elongs' to me..pe-. V
,’ cause Iliad you out you you was nst almost‘
teed gonel And dat tnm'Deu-bug 'chief
‘dinks.now dat he has starve you to tetl); for
r , he stop take meat to de_‘csve‘dis some
time! '1 net met him, und scare him a , ut
3‘ yours oak "He di'nks I‘m a fool, undisf’ raid
of me iks s tanifo‘ol,’ he .' i'But now, gran-dad,

[lama in? down to see Hall. to, see old uncle
Sir Pi 1 Johnson, und'I’m goin‘wto pegs new '
rifle-gun ,of him, ulid some, plankets, und data
like, and you" keep dis fun und powder pad
.lesd till you see me in er old shanty 009 in
‘der hilly—foryou 'must hunt fund try a, bit.

. under half smile,- it fiyvdirseted.  *store‘dofi viuter eooml.,you know. on s y; V
With skied lof'lim ,’- staggeri g ' gsit,“ *youton’t ysnt npppddy to see, you, et a v‘ es,»
sndv‘s«.laek-lustre lookswngiehjsesmeda-rsltlisre‘ ~vothrn'ight,k,n w you. so you stay, are tillrl
: that of an‘ idols-than that of'» s-man' ‘ 'ooornes to yoii‘l" . , g ‘ h
onus" full senses; this individnslvm'etfth's’ old' “My brother's‘words are. good! .Iwillfgoc

~ 'to the shanty!” ,said‘thefiiidian. without hesis

-..tn‘tion, ‘accepting‘th‘e srn‘is proffered to him. , .
flgnd I will, be dere:_to-night—.thke my: ,
“knife und hatchet, u’nd'nut some, poughefrpm.
“hemlock forlour pgdrund‘if‘ you see-.a: tear or,
"moose, yust sphesk t‘ohimswit olt' Dunderclolp.
‘ders. 'und s‘sk him't‘o. stay mit us for supper ‘,
v brother ‘shsll find food at the slum, ,
"whephegets therel'.’ said the'Indisn.’ {flu ..
.now, when my'b‘rothergo‘es tothe great chief
"of the pale-facek”  - ‘ I . ‘ .
‘ “You mean, unsie'Si‘r,Pilluohmsr’  
“alga-when on go Zthere, find out a young.
‘ India named ' haysridariegea. .It is said he ,
:hss-‘s‘d’opted him as a song. Look at ‘imng’et
"him to‘ talk. and when
“what he is" like "’ .
' "Annie rs more?” ‘ ,  ,
' ““No. go'o :flon ‘Yost, thst is I'll.‘ 'Bur‘bs
careful not‘to speak of mute on .oné‘l”f '
mm: 'Vot der il‘qryvel'o hi I my? ’I
'ton‘t know your name, nor nothing spouty'ow.
’for yyuyou never-"tells ‘me-'-‘-p|1t gOOt‘ pys,
takes-cool.- care of Dundercliipfiflfi'llé‘gun l" ‘ '
i l'l‘he German‘now assod'on‘ along the mil”
towirrd‘ the” hall, whilethe 'Ind‘ian ' crossed“ it}
send took a northerly-course through the forest ‘

you consular:le 1M

7 _

V .onsr'rER xxu. .

‘ fl‘hayeudencg'gu and 'John‘ lmvinq‘hnls‘lied‘
' theii‘recitatlpnl before‘Mr.’ O‘Wh’ackcm, were"
‘tnkin a bout with the 'foils,¥for‘tlieir pm)"
be“ “ed the amusement of Sir‘ Willlsmpm,’ .
{may or the mansion, it short ume’atts‘rjhe ‘
.beronst he'd been relieved by the departure“ “
the old Mohawk chief. - . ,‘ .  ’

Dating I pause, or breathingwpellythe
dick eyeof John cau‘ht slight of‘the sd-‘
yspoxng‘ form o'f‘Hon- Toot, Who chme’towar'd
“the house in hisususl shnmblinu wags; ‘ t i ‘

“ There comes that fool. Hon‘Yobt chuyler.
teller!" said he to the bnronet. ' " v

r

 

\ aside to let hintpsss.

‘ “ch less a fool than some who dssm him i

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mi"-

 

. m:fz'~r ,... .

L-r man-raga: 5.1—: <;-.~ -

 

 

 

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The New York Library.

 

such. There is a good deal of .knnvish wit
about him i" said the buronet,‘ in reply. “ But
on with your play—let not his approach dis-
turb on. T ayendanegea is better in his
gun than yourself; look out that he does
not become your teacher, though you have
had years to is days of practice l"

The young men, thus urged and encouraged,
again took position in a graceful and earnest
style, and were soon active] engaged. Carts,
tierce, seconds, prime, t irust and parry,
longe and counter, every point of the areas,
advancing and retreatin , was carried t rou h
with a grace and celerity which frequent
elicited a word of commendation from the old
barouet, who was himself more than an ordi-
nary swordsman. At last the impetuosity of
John rather threw him off his guard, and
missing a beautiful pass of carte over the arm,
at his antagonist, who merel sWerved his
body to one side and let the fed pass him, he
lost his balance, and nearly fell forward.
Then, as he strove to recover himself, the
fort: of Thayendanegea‘s blade struck under
the feeble of his foil, and, with a light turn of
the wrist, the weapon was thrown high in
the air behind the young Indian, and caught
snit; descent by Hon Yost, who, with ashout,
'Sfle :

“Well/done, Thayendanegea! Well done,
my rave boy I"

“ ow came you to know his name? You
never saw him before ?" said the baronet.
“You haven't been about here for three
months before i"

“I knows dat, uncle Sir Pill Johnson—I
knows datl I’ve been down mit a lot of den
rascally St. Re is Indians, and dey got me
trunk, and den e stole my musket gun, and
my klnife and hate st, and all but mine shmoke
pi n

“You mean that you sold them for rum, I
think ”' said the baronet.

“ Got in himmel, no 1 Uncle Sir Pill, I takes
mine oat upon dc ig pook mita crosh on
him. dat ter tam Infiun cot my musketgun,
olt Dunderclap, vot kill dat last moose vith,
datI gine you der hind quarters of in der vin-
terl You remember dat, eh, uncle Sir Pill ?"

1 “Yes, and how much brandy, and tobacco,
and powder and lead I gave you in return l”
said the baronet, in reply.

“Yaw—and if you’l gif me a new ride-
gun, und some owder und lead, and a knife
and hatchet, und a planket for der night-time,
I‘ll gonad kill you some more moose und
toers, for I see b enty’ of track only a leetle
ways k in der hills l"

“ ell, tell me how you knew that this
young lad's name was Thayendanegea, and I‘ll
think about it !"

“ Well; uncle Sir Pill, you see I’m’ a fool,
and fools know everyding !" ,

“ I’d be a fool if I believed your answer l”

“ Then you’d be wiser than you be now, for
if you was a fool like me, you'd know what
you want to know 1”

“Come, come, no more fooling with me,
Hon Yost. Answer my uestion "

“Vel, den, uncle Sir ill,.I met dat olt
Devil-bug, Aroghyadeeka. and he tolt me dat

on? had dept a oung Indian for son, and dat

is name was hayendanegea-‘—good strong
name dat, can't break it no more dnn a bundle
of sticks—dat's dc vay I learn his name 1"

“ Any fool could have learned it that way i”
said the baronet, with a laugh. “I ex eoted
you'd have a tale of mystery to unfold "

“ Not spout dat, unc e Sir Pill, but I knows
more dan one mystery, and I knows enough
to keep my mouth shut and my ears open!”

“An excellent quality, Hon Yost. I wish
that all m surroundings possessed it! What
do you think of Thnyendanegeaf I see that

on regs-d him very intently. Let us hear,

r they say a fool's opinion is worth some-
thin . sometimes!"

“ s has de eye of an eagle, de sprin of a
panther, de strength of an ox. de spec of a

eer, de patience of a beaver, de wisdom of a
fox, and dc heart of a man! He will be a
great chief when you are dead und like do
alien tree, rotting in de oold ground 1" and
Hon Yost, in a tone as serious and earnest. and
la and style as lofty, as if he had been
'an pu'ed pro .het. _ V

“Very com unentary to him!” said the
baronet, in a p eassnt tone. . _

“ Dat’s more dan de truth Is to everybody I”
said Ben Yost. ,

“ What will I be, Hon i” asked John, in .
careless way. ,

. “Yost what der eoot Got blouses. and you v

 

can‘t hel yourself!” replied the German.

“ Am to be a soldier, is ricst, or a farmer!"

“But is hard to tell. ou‘re too lazy to
bray, and so you won‘t be a briest; you're
too mud to work, so you won‘t be a farmer :
may e you'll be a soldier, und if you‘re toc
lazy to run, den you‘ll make a very coot one i”

“ You needn't call him a fool, after that.
Master John!” said the baronet, laughin
“ It is my 0 inion that he is up to your mark
and you ha better replenish his tobacco-box,
and ask no more questions i"

“ Und den apout de rifle-gun, und der teers
gnfll moose dat I shall shoot niit it, uncle Sir

i ?"

“ Oh, you shall have them, Hon Yost You
are not much of a beggar, and are very goot
pay when you can pay 1"

“ Und a couple of lankets, uncle Sir Pill!"

“ Two blankets— by is not one sufficient 7"

“ Yaw, for me ,' but den I dinks about gittin’
one frau—Dere’s Petey Vrooman, oer fat gal
Vot lives on der flats, I dinks her und me
shall cooplc togedder ’fore long i”

“ Well, you shall have the two blankets,
and a calico dress for her beside, but you must
let me kiss the bride l"

“ Yaw ; but den I shall‘yust charge a pottle
of randy for de rivilege l”

he baronet di not reply, but led the way
to his store—room, where he kept a vast variety
of arms, munitions, and such cheap goods as
were needed by the class of Indians, fron-
tiersmen, and settlers around him. Here he
fitted Hon Yost out with the arms which he
had solicited, and the blankets and calico
promised ; also giving him some sand and
tooacco for his mother, an old gipsy of a
woman whom the baronet had 1011 known.
And amused as he ever was by the rolleries
of Hon Yost, he lied him pretty well with
liquor, and, when e finally tired of him, sent
him awaybwithf bottle fu 1, telling him to be
sure and rin _ im some venison on the next
day, which e German faithfully promised
to do. .

CHAPTER XXIII.

I have gazed. in foreign lands, a on many a
lofty palace—ugon many a marb e tower-
many a gallant ooking castle! And at home
have seen Art‘s choicest works of triumph!
Monuments where the architect, the sculptor,
the painter, had lavished all their skill l Yet,
in the deep, still shadows of the might trees
.of the forest, beneath the broad-spree , ever»
green branches of pine, and spruce, and hem:-

ock, I havezseen the shanty of bark, rough,

outside, but white inside as driven snow, and
smooth as marble, impervious to the wind, or
rain, or snow, which seemed to me more com-
fortable, aye, and prettier than any gaudy

palace, any tinselled boudoir that ever human

eing stood within.

And, upon my couch of spruce or hemlock
boughs, or on my. ielding bed of sweet-fern,
each iving up tieir pleasant fragrance, I
have id my chase-wearied form, and slept
deliciously. Sweeter dreams came to me
there than ever blessed me elsewhere. Lulled
by the rustle of the leaves, or by some mur-
muring waterfall, to slumber, I have reposed
in a fearless, happy quiet, which a king might
envy.

In a dense rove of ines, some tour or five
miles north 0 the trai where he parted with
Hon Yost Schuyler, the white-haired Indian
stood before a neat, bark shanty. It was
situated in a little glen, through which rushed
a bright and merry stream, and so hidden by
the rocky sides of the glen, and the thic
growth around, that no one could see it until
they 'were close upon it. And before this
shanty, for it was now night, a bright and
cheerful fire burned, and upon the clipped
branches of a birch tree, which stood near
the front of the, shanty, hung the neatl -
dressed and divided quarters of a fine at
buck. Also several .partridges, which had
been snared by the skdlfulhand of the In-V
dian. Within, the heaped-up boughs fof
spruce and hemlock looked, inutingLy._ And
in one corner stood the ready gun and hung
the'tomahawk and knife, all revealed by the
light of the camp-fire. . ' ,

The, Indian, who! had already broiled and ,
eaten more than one slice of the freehand de-
licious venison, listened intently for every
sound 'which betokened the approach of Hon
Yost, who, from having been nearly all his

 

life among the Indians, had adopted their
habits and customs, and was more at home in
the woods than in a house Thereforefiit was
not to be expected that he would either miss
his way, or make much noise in his approach,
scarce the rustle of a fallen leaf, or the crack-
ing of a dry twig being heard when an In-
dian, in approaching gfime or an enemy, moves
through the forest. at on this occasion the
liquor of Sir William had upset the bowl of
caution, and Hon Yost was heard at a con-
siderable distance, floundering throu h the
nuderbrush like a wounded moose, an sing-
ing snatches of old Dutch songs, as he came
along.
“ Ughl Hon Yost has been getting weak
on the strong water—1’11 scare him I” said the
old Indian, and he crept steadil off for seve-
ral yards in the direction in w iich the Ger.
man made such a noise.

Directl , when Hon Yost was within about
a hundre yards of the camp—fire, and could
'ust see the glimmering light of the blaze, as
it was reflected u on the u per branches of
the trees, the shr' , uneartth ell of a pan-
ther fell upon his earpclose to lilim '

“ Got in himmel! dere ish a loody painter
and I forgot to load mine ri e-gun l" cri
Hon Yost, almost sobered by the startling
event, calculated to frighten even a sober
man.

Another startling and fearful yell, and a

rustle in the bushes close to him, as if the 1

animal was about to a rin upon him, finish—
ed the business, and on cat, with a yell of
terror almost as loud, threw the bottle in his
hand at the spot where he supposed the ani-
mal was, and bounded off to gain the cam
by a circuitous route, for the panther seems
to be between him and the fire. ,

The Indian, uickly snatching the bottle
from the roun , ran with all speed to the
fire, and when Eon Yost got there, the former
was seated by the entrance to the shanty, very
quietlv smoking his plpe. '

“ Didn't on hear . at pig ainter, gran-
dad ?" aske Hon Yost, breath essly, and all
in a tremor,as he came up.

“I did not hear a panther!" said the In-
dian, quietly. “ Do on think I am a fool,
or so poor a hunter, t iat I cannot tell the cry
of a anther from that of a man ?”

“ ut this was a painter, by tam l Tousand
duyvels,didn‘tl see its eye-pulls, yust like two
coals of fire I" .

“ You have been drinking the Great Chief's
fire-water," said the Indian, quietly.

“ Yaw, and threw a whole pottle of cot
prandy at der painter‘s head i" said Hon est,
in a regretful tone.

“ Was it better than this i" said the Indian,

reducing the identical bottle, which Hon
{fest instantly knew, because it was tied up
in an old cotton handkerchief of his.

Hon Yost appeared completely nonplused.
The old Indian suddenly gave another yell. so
natural that the German sprung back full
three or four yards.

“ Got in himmeli Vel, if I am an olt fool
and a tam coward skunk, nopoddy put you
knows it. Take a trink from the pottle,
grandad, and den we'll have some cooper l”

“ No fire-water can pass my lips!" re lied

the Indian. “It makes men weak in the sad, '

weak in the legs, and week all over i"

“ More truth dere den anyding else i" mut-
tered Hon Yost, and for once he at down-tho
bottle untested, and cutting o a slice of
venison, broiled and ate it, and then went to

'the brook to quench his thirst.

Having an ped, he roceeded to unfold his
presents to tiie view 0 the Indian. First he
showed the two blankets to the Indian, and,
tossing him one, bade him keep it. Then he

gave him bread, salt, and pep er, also tobacco

and ipes. Then he hands him the new
rifle, atehet, knife, and ammunition, saying-

“ You keep dese,,grsndsd—I’ll take peek
old Dundercla , or oy, I pelleeve dc old gun
knows me, un e coot Got knows datl know
it. In de morning we must have a hunt. for
I bromise old uncle Sir Pill, to kill him some'
teers and moose, for all dese din s l" ‘

“ My brother’s promise shall 6 kept. Be. '

fore the sun is up, I will have game read for
him to carr in. I am stron new. I. vs
eaten fresh- illed meat, and 'With a gun in in

hand, and a knife and hatchet in my belt,’

feel like a man again i"
“ Dunder, put it makes me feel 'goet. to
hear you talk dat vay i” said Hon Yost.
' And then he took out the handsome piece

of calico which Sir William had giveata“ "

 

Thayendanegea,’ the Scourge. 15

 

hiin. " '

"Here‘s someding vot you can make on
shirts mitl I told uncle Sir Pill I wante it
for a woman; at dat vas a tam liol" said he,
as he exhibite this article.

“‘I want no clothes but those I make from
deer skin I" said the Indian, quietly. Then,
while he was still looking at the calico, he
said: “Hon Yost was at the upper Village,
to-da , was he not ‘3“

“ aw'—-two times have I peen dere l"

“ Did you see a woman named Dyagetto Y”

" No, put I hear dem talk spent a squaw
init dat name, for vy, I remember, dey say

' ‘slie come from a long travels in de west !"

“If  brother will hang this, in the night-
time, with some venison, at the door of her
lod e, I will each day kill him plenty of game,
an I will make him pretty dresses and
pouches from fawn-skins and porcupine

uills, which he can sell for money i” said
she Indian

“ Ddt‘ii a pargain; but for vy do you care
for dat woman? Is she an old sweetheart of
yours, grandad Y"

“ I will sometime tell you why I wish to
make her presents, and kill ame for her, that
she ma not be hungry. ut she must not
know rom whence these things come to herl
Did you see the young Tliayendanegea ‘P”

“ Yaw, and I tell you (int he is de slimart—
est poy ‘dat runs on two legs. He has an eye

like an eagle, and pests all dat is spout him.‘

I dinks uncle Sir Pill knew vat he vas apout
ven he take him for a poy-son !"

“ It is iodl Ma the Great Spirit bless
him I" said the old ndian, and then, drawing
his new blanket around him, he retired with-
in the shanty, and laid dewn to sleep.

.‘Hon Yost smoked his pipe out, replenished
the‘fnel on the fire, and then followed his ex-
ample.

CHAPTER XXIV

Tlic'sun was not more than two or three
hours high, on the next morning, when the
baronet beheld Hon Yost approaching, bend-
ing under a heavy 'ourthen. Upon his back
he carried a huge saddle of venison, with the
fatfull two inches thick upon the haunch, and
strong to his belt were a dozen or more of
fine partridges, while a his left hand he car-
ried a strin of brook trout, and uswi his
right to steady the runs on his shoulders, for
he had left his gun ehind him. .

“ Why, Hon Yost, you are wonderfull
prompt in making your pa 'ments, this time} '
cried the baronet, as he loo ed with the admir-
ing eyc ofa s ortsman upon the s lendid lot
of game whie the German laid own upon
the crab before him. 2

“ glow—maype I vants more trust,‘py-and-
py—«ien, if I pay goot now, you trust me
more I” replied on Yost. _

"‘A'vs ood reason, with a spice of sel-
fishness ; at how could you get together so
much game in so short a time? It was dark,
or‘ var nearly so, when you left here, last
night I " I

“ You know dat it is do olt saying, uncle
Sir I’ill, ‘ a fool for luck, und' a rich man for
chiltrenl‘ " ‘ .

"N A fool lfor luck, and a poor man for chil-
dren.‘ is the ads e, Hon Yost 1"

“Don it's hal truth, and dc odder half ‘0
tam lie l"‘ replied the German.

“‘ How so 9" asked the baronct'.

“‘For 1731, Im a fool, and l have do goot
luck—you're rich, and you have more chil-
tren, red and vite, dan I can count in aweekl
I'sees little Sir Pills everyvere 1 goes I"

The baronst lau had at this home-thrust,
for itwas a fact wliich he could not deny, and
said:

“ You deserve a drop of brandy for that,
Hon Yostl Come and get it i"

'“ Yaw, I’ll go dat, uncle Sir Pill; but den
I‘vants a couple of men, mit horses, to go
on do mud creek, about a ooople of miles.
I c'ft a‘young'pull-moose dere, a vile ago,
mit his troat out, had a lead pallet through.

' his heart I"

“Whatl also killed a moose, this moi-n.
" r1 .
mg‘ Yaw, uncle Sir Pill, I gotup afore de sun
did, und'before I went five minutes {min m
camp, up jumped a fat puck—qu dare i. in.
saddle. I not have yerked off his hide, and
drool Him 0? ybu, van crash I hear some.
dings preaking through ‘de prush, and I look

. sharp init mine eyes, and Vat shall I see put

sine, fat. two year old pull~uiooso. I look

i

 

at him over mine rifle-gun, and it speak to
him, und he la den und vait for me to cut
his troat. Un dat I do, and I dress him. and
hang him up, vile l prings dose games, und I
diuks you send me two means, mit horses, for
der meat. It is a coat deal—viii vcigli like a
ton of hay, most 1"

“Very well, l'Ion Yost, the meat will be
welcome in the settlement, for the Indians
have brought in but little lately l"

“ Dey’re a lazy set of toga. Give ’em vos
they can eat and triiik, und den dey‘ll sleep
till dey’re hungry again i”

'l‘hayendsncgea and the baronet’s son now
approached, and examined the gains.

“1 should like to hunt—it is more manly
than study P‘ said Thayendanegea.

" You can do both, at pro or seasons, my
lad," said Sir William. " If lon Yost stays
about here, on may go and hunt with him
sometimes, fbr he is agood liuuter,and knows
the ranges of the game I"

“ Yaw—he may hunt mit me—he has a
goot eye i" said the German, as he followed
Sir William, to get the promised brandy.

This having been done, he started off with
a couple of men, to send in his moose-meat.

CHAPTER XXV.

Reader, are there not days, sometimes
weeks, aye, even months of our life, so dull
and monotonous, so utterly evoid of interest,
or of real benefit to yourself, that you wish
you had slept away the time, passed it amid
pleasant dreams, rather than in wakeful
sloth and carelessness?

And so it is with the life-times of characters
in a story, and were I to follow out the dull
details, you would call the story tame and
prosy. Iprefer to avoid that. and to do it

est, choose to skip a whole year of events,
not sufficiently startling to require any re-
cord.

It was about a year later than the time
which embraced the incidents of our last chap-
ter—tho twenty-fourth winter—with its chill-
ing blasts, had come and passed—the maple,
the tamarac, the elm, and ash, and beech had
lost their last year’s dress, but spring had
given the material, and summer had put on
for them a new one. But stern and undying,
like monuments of patience and of hope, the
lofty pines, the great rough-barked heuilocks,
and the smooth and quakerly spruces, had
borne, with many sighs, the breath of the
rude winter storms, and the snowy pail which
had been laid so cold upon them.

Before the bark shanty. now blackened in-
side and out with the smoke of man fires, sat
our old friend, the white-haired In inn, busy
making some of those curious and beautiful
baskets and boxes of birch bark, embroidered
with the small quills of the porcupine, for
which: the Mohawks and Oneidss were so
famous.

It was a still and uist day, cool in the
shade, but hot where t is sun's rays had free
sco e. Searcer any wind was abroad to
to e the leaves, but the gentle murmur of.
the little brook fell coolineg upon the car as
it traveled away, foaming and glittering over
its long-worn, rocky path toward the Mo-
hawli in the valley.

Suddenl ,.whils the old man was busy at
his work, 0 heard the cry which the panther
often gives when it scents prey close at hand.
An instant after he heard the sharp crack of
s rifle, apparently within on or two hundred
yards of his encampment, and then the shrill,
Wild or of a wounded animal, the shout or
yell, al as fierce, of a human being, and
sounds as of a mighty lcap and a struggle ho
tWeen some objects.

_ It was but an instant before he was bound
ing toward the s ot whence the sounds ems,
hated, With his ended rifle in one hand and
his hatchet in the other.

A moment later, and he saw in a small 0 a
space amou the trees, a huge anther an a
man c.othe Ill-tile garb of an odian, rolling
over and over in a terrible struggle for the
mastery. There was a hot panting of man
andlieast; but both were so quick in their
motions, that the old man lifted his ride it.
vain-rho could not fire without endangering
the hfe of the man as much as that of the
beast.

. Hs_ rushed forward, and, casting down his
rifle, intended to enter the combat with his
bowl!“ 3 but at the very moment that he raisw.
ad it to strike the animal which was on top

 

of the man, the former gave a wild ell—a
dying cry, and, rolaxin its hold, fel over
dead upon the ground, With the blood stream-
ing from its heart, while the victor in the
dreadful struggle leaped to his foet,'with his
long and bloody knife in his hand, and pealed
out a shout of triumph.

Although he was covered with blood, and
his stout garments were rent almost to tatters
by the claws and teeth of the ferocious beast,
he was comparatively unharmed in body, a
few deep scratches only being the extent of
his damage.

“Who are you i" cried the old Indian,
looking with admiration upon the youthful,
vigorous frame of the conqueror.

“They call me Thay’endanegeal" replied
the young Indian, as he spurned the yet
quivering carcass of the slain panther with
his foot. "‘ Who are you I"

“When you stand in your proper lacs as
chief of the Moliawks, and head cliie of the
Six Nations, then I well tell you I” replied the
old Iiidinn.

“My rightful place? What do you know
about it ?" said the bewildered youth.

“ Yes, your rightful lace. I know all '
about it. and in time wil place you there;
but, by the memor of your father, I charge
you not to speak 0 that or of this interview
until I give you permissionl"

“ Did you 'now my father?"

“Yes, well i"

“ Who was he? Tell me! Clear up the
mystery which shrouds my birth 1"

“In the hour of your triumph I will!
Until then, let the son of Dya etto be what
he has been-«good, brave, stu ions, honora-
ble. Do not leave Sir William, but keep in
his favor. for the day is not far distant when
you will need his helpl Deport yourself as
the son of a great chief, and when the ssglo
crown encircles your head, youvwill be pow-
srfull" '

“ You know my mother also 7"

“ No one knows her better. But not even
to her must you speak of this meeting. And
now, come to my cam ; but. first, we will
take the skin of the ant ier, and then you can
wash away the bloo from your form, and I
will dress your scratches. It was a brave
fight, and I am glad that you killed the beast
without my he . But your aim was bad.
You fired too ow. A panther's heart is
small. You should have put your ball bo-
tween his eyes i“

In a short time the hunter’s proudest
trophy, the skin of the tiger of the north, was
taken off, and then Thnyendanegea followed
the old Indian to his camp.

The eyes of Thayendaneges looked with
surprise at the comfortable about , and he
asked : “How lon have you lived ere l’"

“ More than two ve moons l" replied the old
man. . ,

“ And have not been to the Hall, which is
only three or four miles away i" '

“ No ; I am known there, but do not wish
to go there until the time set by the Great
Spirit. I have watched over you and Das-
lova and Dyagettc, your mother, when on
all were sleeping! ear these words, at
repeat them'not There is a cloud 'over you
now, but the Great S irit will blow it away i"

“ Tliayendsnegea elieres your words!
And he will obey!" said the young Indian,
thoughtfull and with respect. . ‘

Then, as is eye fell a on the work upon
wlgch the old Indian ha been engaged, no
sai : ' ’

“ You must know IIon‘ Yost, for he brings
such things as those to the hall to sell I"

“ Yes; Hon Yost is a good man, and is
here very oftenl" -

“Talk of dcr du cl. and he is pound sure
to yumpu ri lita ore.yel" cried our old Ger-
man frien , w in, bearing voices at the cam ,
had approached homeless] . "Vy, has n
Tli‘ayen anegca‘l" be adde . “Got in him-
niel,vot have you peen about! 'All plood and
dirt-danch—‘dId you kill dat painterpcast?"

“He killed it alone, siiiglelianded, with his
knife, after he had wounded it with his rifle!"
said the _old Indian, and his keen black-eyes"
flashed With pride and satisfaction,” lic gored
after the young man, who proceeded to the
airy]: to wash away the stains of his battle,

ile Hon Yost stretched out and examined:
flu huge skin of the panther.

“Dunder, vot a pig painter!” exclaimed the
German. “I tell you vat. grandad. dst po

lb and to p. a great man son of does daysl '

‘ You; hewill Do a great saint!" up“

 

 

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em .0“. he; ,

 

 

 
 
  
 
   

 

  

16

 

. The New York Library.

 

 

the old Indian. “ I shall see that, and then I
shall die 1 I can go, then, to the happy
bunting-grounds above, in ueace l”

Thaysndanegea, having washed at the
brook, now returned. and the old Indian made
him accept of a new suit of elegantly-worked
hunting clothes, bidding him say at the Hall
that they were a present from Hon Yost,
whom he had met in the forest.

“ Ma I come to see 'ou again?” asked the

oung ndian, after he had exchanged his old
clothes for the new.

“Yes, if you come alone! And keep my
'words ; for no one beside you and Hon Yost
must know that I am here! Come, and I will
tell ou of the deeds of your fathers—tell you
of the brave works of your race, and show
you how to tread the path before vou I"

“I will come 1" said the young lmlmn, and
he took up the panther-skin and his mile, and
went away.

‘ CHAPTER XXVI.

Another wild, wide bound over the desert
of Time, with its wrecks and sleepy years,
lay behind us; for in them there is nothing
that. claims more than a passing glance at our
hands.

And what a change those 'years have
wrought among our characters! 1:. stature,
as in age, Thayendsnegea has become a man—-
in deed and fame, a warrior. The beard has
stolen out upon the face of John Johnson, and
the careless an h ‘of the boy has given place
to the stern emeanor of the man. Guy
Johnson, still mean, envious, full- of treachery
and guile, progresses with the rest along
Time’s pathwa . He yet remains beneath the
roof of Sir Wi liam, whose white hairs, more
than any bodily infirmit , tell, too, that he is
. rowing older. And r. O’Whackem still

ives, the birchifying terror of the rising
, eneration, and the “oracle ”, of the neigh-
orhood The ladies—I mean the young
ones—have “ spread ” considerably, not hoopa-
finely,- but a truce to all of this re-descriptive-
neu. Imagine every one of my characters
 five or six years ahead of where we left them
iin the chapters preceding this, and so far as
‘human progression goes you have them ready
for the parts they have to play in the continua-
tion of the tale.

It was spring, leaf , balmy June, in 1774.
And those who now well in the valley of the
Mohawk can tell you how bright and beauti-
ful, how very pleasant is that month there
after the long, cold winter has passed utterly
away. and the late sprin frosts eculier to
the re ion have vanishe , and t e young,
green eaves and the bright flowers have
come to life—to life and beauty.

, It was a night for love, for the stars were

looking from a cloudless sky, and the new
moon showed its silvery crescent among
t em.
hAnd there was love-makin , or wooing,
going on at that time in evisinity of
Johnson Hall. In one part of that grove,
back of the Hall, wherein several of “our
scenes have taken place, Guy Johnson was
seated, with the fair and gentle Leonore,
urging her to a speedy union—for he had of
late fallen much in his uncle’s esteem—and he
wished to secure her and her prospective for-
tune, before some new evil would blot out his
chances forever.

But she, ever timid and gentle, though de-
Votedly fond of him, was averse to. a haste
which might offend her father, whose health
badlatterly. been but poor-and his temper
none of the best.

In another part of that grove, John Johnson
was love-making to Onalova, the sister of
The endauegea, in his own impetuous way,
for e was even more impulsive in his now-
formed character than even his father had
been in his younger days.

And Thsyendanegea, too, was abroad on
',that balmly evening, not for the purpose of
Tove-making, but led forth by the willful and
now very lovely Kathleen, who had very
often shown a preference for the noble-looking
and educated brave, scarcely becoming in a
maiden, yet well in accordance with all, ex-
ce t Leonore. of her father‘s blood. And a
pale-face would undoubtedly have been fiat-
tered by such a preference from the favorite
child of the wealthy baronet; yet Thayen-
daaeges. while he listened to her flatteries
and Words that were even more than merely

 

kind, was cold as ice He had nobler views
ahead than that of dallying in love affairs—a
warrior, stern in his nature, and only enthr
siastic when he thought of the nobler path
fame which he had marked out for himself,
and meant. with all s Warrior's zeal, to follow.
And not such a warrior-fame as is generally
accredited to the red man, cruelty and uile
marking his footste s with the b ood o the
helplesss, but one w ich would leave for him
a name untarnished.

“ Where is your heart, The endanegea ll"
asked Kathleen, as they wa ked through
the grove.

“ Strong within my breast, like the heart
of the oak !" was his reply.

“ And will love never enter it?" she asked.

“Love is for women to talk about l" was
his answer. “ A warrior, whose eye is upon
the war-path, has other things to think of.”

“But there is no war now! Why should
you be forever thinking of that 1’"

“Because it will come, and soon. Your
father says so, and truth is on his lips. He
never s oke to me with a forked tongue l"

“We l, it will come, and soon pass away,
like the dreadful storm so long ago, which I
never can forget; for there you saved my life.
Butl would rather see no war; for if it comes,
then you may fall, as well as others who are
dear to me—my fatherand m brother I"

“ Your father will not the war-path.
He is too old; but I will strike for him! I!
I fall, it will be as a brave should fall, and no
one will weep for me l"

“ How wrong and how cruel to say that !"
Tears stole out from her blue eyes and down
her fair checks, as she added 2 “If I wee at
the thou hts, how much the more wi l I
weep at t e fact, should it ever occur. And
Dyagetto, your good mother, and Onalova.
your sister, will grieve all as much, I am
sure I"

“ The mother and sister of a Mohawk will
never weep for his death, in battle, if his face
is turned toward the foe!” he replied. as they
passed from the grove toward the house.

“Will Onalova be my bride !" said John
Johnson to the Indian girl, as he passed his
arm around her waist, while they walked
through the shadowy grove.

“ Onalova has given her heart to you. She
will never change while water flows down the
hill-side, or the trees grow l” re lied the girl.

“But while my father lives e will refuse
to let the heir to his title marry the daughter
of the Mohawk.”

“He is a fool, then, for the child of the red
man is as good as the son of the ale-face. If
it is not so, why do you say at you love
me ?)i

“ You are as good, my proud. girl. He will
look higher for me i"

'“ If he looks too high, he will not see the
path that he walks upon, and fall l” laid the
girl, roudly.

“'l’iiat is true ; but Onalova can be m
bride in secret, without his knowledge, an
whenrhe passes to the spirit-land, Ican tell
all. the world that she. is mine 1”

The girl looked at him keenly and hesitated
to reIply. He noticed this. and said :

“ f Onalova‘s .heart is mine she will not
pause to answer 1”

“ Her heart is yours, and ehevwill not fear
to trust on l" said the trusting girl, and,
though co der in her nature, perhaps, as most
of her. race. than the pale-faces, she did not
turn from his kisses, nor fear to listen to his
plan for their secret marri e.

And at that very hour uy Johnson had
succeeded imaiiiing a reluctant consent. from
Leonora to e a similar step.

——

CHAPTER XXVI!

Old Aro hyadeoka paced to and fro, with a
lowering row, in the sitting-room of Sir
William Johnson. His fiery eye never hfi

leamed more fiercely on the battle-field than
it did then and there, and every quivering
muscle showed the agitation of his mind—
that there was a tempest in his breast. But.
calm and imperturbable as ever, Sir William
sat with a package of dispatches befors bill.
which he had ust received from Boston, an-
nouncing the ~important fact that hostilities
had actually broken out between the colonists
and the English overnment; that a revolu-
tion. likely to be ong and blood . had com~
mused. ‘ As a titled officer of lag George,

‘ to rest. and

 

from whom he had received many a favor

besides the lucrative post which he held,o

course there was but one side which he could
be expected to take in the coming struggle.‘
And having so large a body of tenantr tin er
his control, mostly Scotch and Irish, w om,he
had himself im orted and placed upon his
domains, and use a sure control of all the
Indians exce t Oneida‘s, between him, and
Canada, in \v iich province he also had reat
influence, his services. were at once calls for,
not only to crush rebellion, as it was termed,
should it rise in the thickly-settled valley of
the Mohawk, but also to organize and excite
the Indians to take part in the merciless ware
fare so soon to be commenced in that section,
down the valley of the Hudson, and in, the
region of theDelaware and Schoharie.

And these were the instructions which, Ic-
com anied the dispatches, tellin of patriot
and. ritish blood having been. a ready shed
at Boston. of the determination of the. bin
and his servants to crush the rebellion at (a! '
hazards and at all costs. And oldas he was,
determined to take the field in rso ,for the
safety of his immense possessions spended
on his beating back the patriots,,who_m_he
knew, led on b a Herkimer and a, Willst,
wnuld not long be idle when the war-cry was
raised in the valley. ,’

The cause of the anger of the old Mohawk
chief can better be discovered by the words
of their conversation, than in any other way.

“ Why must I,.who have led myjpeopleto‘
bottle so often. be made to yield to that bog,
whose face is like that of a squaw 1’” beach ,
at last.

“ For three. reasons," replied,Sir William.
“ First, it is his right, too long delayed. Neat,
he is a brave warrior, young as he is,,and‘
though his rights are yet unknown to himor
his tribe, no man so opular there aswhe.
Lastly, it is my will! )8»; are old—need’re’st
rather than to travel on the war-path l”

“ The rest chief has counted asmany sum-
mers as I have, and the snows of as many
winters are upon his hairs!” said the old
chief, not so angrily as when he. "kédlli‘
question, for, knowing as he‘didS thpt the bark».
net was. in no humor to be ,trifled withihs‘
deemed caution to be his best policy.

“ True, but I, have a son and s,,nephaw,
reared as soldiers, to lead mywarriors‘fto,
battle, and Thsyendanegea must and shall
lead the Mohawks—sye, and the Six Nations,
ifI will it! None of the chiefs of, the Sons;
one, or Onondagos, or Cayuga- will offer, ,llks
you, to oppose my will l" ‘ _

“The great chief has spots. and Anya. ‘

,_my

docks will now be sum. , Let the, wiu’ o

brother.,be done,” ,said thewily chief, but
there was treache in, his. ook.,;,ss he
spoke. “ I. willcal- a council, and in self
name Thaycndanegea ssmy successor, or I

.am old, and. like a rotten,rtr_ee,;scsrce fit to he

outdown, butaeaciy to fall with the, first
blast that comes. .. t is winter withij—I
will fold my: arms, and sit down in,my.wig-
wam to die, while the young bravest ow
the nth I first led them on i” ‘
T is sad toneof the ,old Indiammorsnthsn
auyitielse. led theold ‘bsronet .to . believe; in
his sincerit . And there was a tone of‘symé
thy in :1)“ voice. and a look of,-.pity. in his
ace, as he said : p ‘
“ Let Mag-liyadeska be cheerful—heretical
'vs in comfort now., Heshall
never lack forfood or blankets while I oruny '
children live. And whealhis brayes come
back to dance the scalp-dance. his willvbethd:

, seat of. honor at thelcouncilrfire,‘for they will"

remember his great deeds when he was con ,i
and we fou ht the French side bylvs' shun
will make his heart glad wrtb thornpraisesr'
And then he went to et brandy himself, for
he had reasons for wis ing’to have thisinter-
view uninterru ted, even y. aservant. for, he
knew the vita importance of, keeping-gun
news utterly secret which he had rpceivsd.
Had be seen. the wily and devilishlook‘
of hatred which followed him from,tbe old
Indian’s e es, he would have been, more. _ 
his guar , and had be seen the old VII. in
take from his. pouch some, of the deadlybsr.
ries of the round-hemlock, and ueeae them
into the gtfizlet of. silver {tom winch the; old‘
general alwa s drank, his life would have .bssn‘
nger spare , and his death less shrouded in
mystery than it was. .
Scarce had Aroghyadecks, with. so skill

‘ which would have made him immortal in the

days of Lucretia Borgia, placed the deadliest;
portion known to tho aborigines of the North,

 

 

- --—.—.—

Thayendanegea, the Scourge.

1'?

 

 

in the goblet, when Sir William returned, and
pouring out a glass of liquor for the Mohawk,
alsoiput a hearty drought in his own goblet,
and raising it to his lips. said :

“ Wewill drink to King George and our
future friendship, Arogli adccku; and then
we will smoke a peace-pipe together, as we
have often done before, and sweep away all
clouds from between us."

He drank. and almost upon the-instant bo-
gan to feel the effects of the oison.

“Dog! you have slain me ” he gasped, as
he strove to reach the door.

" You first, Tliayeudanegea next!" said the
old murderer, as he pushed the already tot-
tering baronet back in his chair, where he
gas ed for only a few moments, and then
sti ened in death.

Then hastening away, he met Guy Johnson
first, to whom he said:

‘The great chief is sick—maybe he‘ll die "

A learn of pleasure, rather than of am,
shot from the e es of the heartless no ) ew,
when he heard iis news, but heicould not
avoid alarming the family, and himselfwhass
toning to tlictbaronet‘s room.

All was now excitement. and mourning
throu h the mansion, and all the settlement...
Weeping and wailing was seen and heard
upon every hand, for, .as ,a master and a
friend, as a husband and a father, no one was
over morsloved than he.

The physician, who had so long known
over symptom of his silings, and every fault
of his constitution, decided that the baronet
huddled of apoplexy, for he knew nothingof
the nature of the poisonwhich he had taken,

and the op reuse of the deceased was such
as is left, y an a cplectic fit. None, fora
moment, thought owhe had erisbed, for

he had been in usual health unti a few mc‘
mentsof the time when he perished.

John, who at once became a baronet, as the
only son and nearest heir of his father, though
convulsed with grief—for he was an afi'ectiono
ate. son, nomatt/er what his other, faults were——
.it once took possession of his papers, and his,
last dispatches, and secured themirfor he saw
their importance.

Among the many who hurried to the room
where the corpse laid, was our old frisnd,Hon
You Schuyler. ‘

He had ever, an idle way of caring ,sbout,
and searching into things whicii did not. much.
concernhiin, and upon. this occasion he took .
up the goblet from hich the poisoneddrsught
had been swallows .ond/Imellcddts contents. .
if any there were init, rchancc, to _see if
there was any of his favorite beverage, liquor,
leftyin it.

The moment that he did so, he started,
turned. pale, and set the oblet down...

“Dunder and blixen, wonder if dsr olt_
man is a pigger, fool dan me, and has made
himself svcymit, a suicide l" he muttered, in
a low tone, unheard .by those who I were
weepinglaround, and then he wentand smell- ,
cd .of the other glass, which still contained
some li ,uor, and this he did notset down;
withsuc haste and tremoras the other. V I

And as now, Arcghyadeoka was tellin his
tale, which was, that the late, barone't h sent,
a runner to him to bid him. iconicnnd see
him, that he .did. so, and, while talking, Sir
Williamsnddenly fell back in his chair in a
dying state—Hon Yost listened to the story
with all atttention. .

Againihe shook his, head, as he stood back
from the rest, and muttered to himself:

“ Dere’s someting tam pluck. in dis matter. ,
Old Mohawk know .all apoqtdst poison.
De baronet, uncle Sir. Pill, didn't_ know, it.
Someting plank, and if I, don’t find. it outhden
{em a piggcr fool dun some folks take me to

1”

Neither, his, wards or actions were, over
heard or noticed, for the company in the room,
were too muchcngaged in looking‘upon the;
corpse, and hearing. the narration ,of thconly3
witness, to the baronet’s illness. .

DHAPTER;. XXVIII.

It was a few hours later, and night list
s read its (cloak of darkness over the’earth.g

he” Mohawk chief, half drunk with ‘11 nor,
obtainedflroni Mr.,-0?Wha°l§em and 9t sis,
who had' wished to, hear his tale" of them”.
net's sudden illness and; deathI:WM recliugfi ,
along" towiird his village, when he suddenly
came upon a camp b the side of the trail .or
path. and saw Hon lost sitting by the fire,

 

hatchet rais

‘ mcl” yelled ,Ariz‘ghyadscka, wildly, and drop-,.

- pin his uplifte

g ma 8’ away into the woods. v
u o '

' “ Dundsrwundm’blixsn, und in .prandy-

‘ one comfort was left to him. ,“ Vy,for yon-

.vill.go andtell Yoanonson whogiys his»
I fadsr dc omndahemlook dat make him dis l"

. me. For mluym weary, inooii—a-manylorlhi -:
i 01' '3

l
‘ .

smoking as usual, for it was indeed unusual
to see him without that appendage there.

“ lliillo, olt Tuyvelbug, sto here a minute I
or two 1" cried Hon Yost, as ie saw Arogliy-
adecka approaching. “I want a word mit

oul S'pose you take a triuk mit me now,‘
ike you did mit Uncle Sir Pill to-dayl I
Won‘t put no cronnd-hcinlock in my pottle l”

Drunk as the old Indian was, the startling
words of the Dutchman seemed to sober him
in an instant.

“ What does my pale-faced brother mean?"
he said, first pausing a moment, and then ad-
vaiioingislowly toward the fire.

“ Yust vet I says—I ton‘t put cround-hem-
lock in in? pottle vcn I trinks init miusselfl"
said the utcliinnu, and, as if to prove' lllfi
Words. he raised a bottle to his lips and drunk
of its contents.

“What does my brother know of hem-
lock ?” asked the wily Indian, approaching
still closer to Hon Yost.

" Dat it kills in less time dan on can out
a deer‘e troatl" replied Hon 0st. “And
more dan dab—tc-day dere died mit hemlock
de pest friend on Injuu redskins ever had-—
Unele Sir Pill, Yonson—und I pelievos datr
you Tuyvelbug was do one dat kill him mit
itl"

“You‘ll never say so much to other. ears,
dog of a pale-face l" cried the Indian, and at
a bonnd‘lie s rang u on Hon Yost with his
fora oath-blow.

But the Dutchman was'too much used
to Indians [and their ways to be entirely;
unpre mred for the assault, sudden as it was.
Stooping suddenly, almost to the round,
he evaded, tlic blow of the hatchet, an catch-A
ing him by the legs, fairly toppled him over,.
and pitched himheadlong into the fire.. With
a wild yell of rage as well as pain, the Mo-
hawk sprung through the blaze,. and was
about to renew a struggle. which he knew
would be of death to one or the other—and»
he feared the divulging of the secret gained
by Hon Yost more than he did death, for to
a shameful death he know it would bring.
him. An Indian .would sooner endure any
tortue than perish by the gallows—for it
ll a belief- with cvoryi-tribc‘which I have
known, that the spirit of an Indian who has.
been hanged, can ncvcr enter the ho py hunt-
ing- rounds above—their hcaven— at much
wan er forevermore in c

the deserved hanging._“
at Hon Yost had reached his rifle before

the Indian could make his second leap, and,
with it cooked and full-levelled at the breast
of the ms’ddened chief, he cried : r

“ If ever you pray, you olt heathen tog,
do it quick now, for a tend Injuu I’ll’makc
mit you yustso suns as I live i"
Aro léyadecka hesitated a moment, butthe,
fire 0 esperation..wss in his eye, and hc
would have bounded forward to meet Jail
death—for the aim of Hon Yost never failed—-
but; at this moment the white-haired and
mysterious Indian,.whoin We have seeniso.
few times, stepped. from the dark gloom, of
the Woods within the circle of fireali ht right
between Hon Yost and his ,intende .victiin.

“Ugh! Ogahtee‘s spirit comes to curse.

hatchet, he turned and lied

t in liiminel, you spoiled the best shot.
[could have muderdis ten. cars!” growled
Hon Yost, u limlowered‘  gun, sulkily,
and took ,up his bottle from the ground...
pnly‘to find that its contents hadbecn Wasted
in t s‘ struggle, because the cork. was out.

wines gone to .ter tuyyell . orssr and,
mors worse, .I s'pose next mine ahmoke-pi o
.sh,,proke.  sinasli—no,..dere it ishl" lie
growled, a little mollified to find that at least

not lctnie shoot d t .T l ”

“min”? a uyvc pug Injunl‘. he
“His time has not come, and it is not' by

youilhaud. that he ,mustdic I" said Ogabtcc,

quic . i

“ Vii, den,.dchnyvelbug shall,bang,,for I

“Nos: theGrcat Spirit hasgivan hing/to
year-rI.haVe,sufi‘ered at his hands.

my wife and childrenwsrs t far no .
toward the sunset, and he .dilustafall» m m

plaseiof wocand ..
darkness.~ And well ltwcrc if whites. thought I '
‘ the same—they would be more careful how

chief died at his hands, for both were linked.
in the treachery which made my hairs white
as winter's snow, while yet Iwas young and.
strong as the oak. For a squaw I was sold
from sunlight to darkness—us warrior killed to
make my tribe thinkl was slain, and those I
loved sent‘far awa l"

" Und Uncle Sir Pill did all dis to you. Mr.
Vitc<haired Injuu—all dis, and has vcman
squaw f"

“ Yes; I have spoken—and my tongue is
not forked l"

“Dat is so ; I know dot for true for dis Ion
time. I have hunt mit you, eat mit you, an .
smoke mit you. But you bromiscmc dis lo ,
times to tell vol. I may call. your names, un
vy me kill deprs and odor game for D again,
und vy you knows all spout cvcrypo ms, and
dey knows nothing spout you i”

" The time has come, in brother. I am
Ogahtee, the true chief o the MOI).th
Dyagetto is my wife—Thsyendancgca my.
can i"

“ Dunder and blitzen, you vos toad so long, ,
ago, as ven I vos a pay, and now you comes. ;

back to life!"

“ You brought me back. to life when you
helped me from the cave. I have waitsdlon .
for revenge. One is gone—the other foe sha
follow beforeanotlier‘sun sinks from. the sky. ,
down to rest I" »

“ Dat is coot, put I must see der fun i”-

“ You shall be with my tribe when I show.
them my boy, and prove who and whatI am.
But I must see him soon; he must know, too,
who I am, and know that he hasn'ng too .
long kept in darkness from his eyes 1"

“Dot, too, is coot; und for you I will go
and send him to our old lodge l" I

“It is well—go! I will be there before the
light shines in the morning. . Now I goto
see Dyagetto, and she shall no lon ror mourn
« for me, and think that the Spirits o the N ight

take food to her i”

“ All is coot, den, and I shall be cog“! as
never vos won I sees do fun mit old uy'Vcl-
bug to-morrow I"

The two new parted, the one goin toward
Johnson Hall, the other toward. the. ohawk
village, both followingthc. trail even in the
darkness, with thatcertainty which only long.
practice in the forest can give to man.

CHAPTER XXIX, u ,

. Within a lodge, which bore tho aim  the

smoke and the methanol manysesscns. sci

Dyagctto, thcmnoblo mother. I, of Thayendm,

negea—cat there alone, workingupon some

of the choice and, beautiful embroidery peed!

her to her nation~ robably upon some gore. .

mentor ornament or her beloved children:

for never mother loved .childron with. sleeps;

love than she. . And why,.cns would ask, di

shc‘prefcr‘ thus to dwell so far ,awayfrom'

them in that lone-lodch , , I

For two reasons, and both compatible with
the natural, proodnobility, and. the un

v in faitlifulncssof hcr~chamtcr.. -, ,

$Il'5b, though forthc sakc of the ,csrs and
advancement of her children, she was willing .
that they should dwell. beneath the ,roof .

' Johnson Hall, for herself she would accept no
favor at the handed the lorvlly sud wealth'

7 owner; fcrshs knew but too. well whatihe had
done to sin thc loveliest maiden. of the Mo-
hawk tri s, whom her father, Arogbyadecka
would part with upon no terms, as she had
been led to believe, but the death of her .
loved husband, and the perpetual banishment.
of herself and children ;. while be, bold and
wil villain that he was, was, throughSir
Wi liam's boundless. influence, raised sh.
position of chief of the Mohawks, whic i, by
right-of heritage, as well as valor, belonged
to the noblc Ogahtoo. her husband. Broken.
hearted, and too proud to bearsherahanis, the
bartcrcd maiden—Arogliyadecka’s daughter—-
died: I‘ll}: then the baronetrfclt kccnlythc
price 0 's wrong to 0 ahtcc, su os' ,‘as'
all did, am the brave slim had'iallldn hmyg'ihsi
hand of an assassin—for a body, .cladnn his

srmcau, but nnreco n-isably mutilated. had,
found and bnri :as Ogahtec, with all,

=the honors of his tribe, in their ancient. burial.
- ' 'But, as we baseman. “9V!!! not he...
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‘JQPW‘E dump sudden! .élulsuppcssdw ,
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could be had, save by help from Without,
there to hear the taunts of his fiendish
enemy, who only fed him that he might live
and suffer.

The second reason why D yagetto dwelt there
alone, was, that the lodge where first she had
dwelt as a happy bride, was near Ogahtee’s

rave, or the grave where she thought he
ay, and to it she could make her daily .pll-
grimages, and pour out a sorrow which,
with her, could know no end—a sorrow for
the loss of her first and only love.

Is there a heroism of love? All! more
scarce than angels‘ visits now, is itl Those
Christian women, or many of them, who laugh
or shudder at the terrible fidelity—for it should
know no other name—which causes the Hin-
doo widow voluntarily to mingle her ashes
with those of her dead husband, uponhis
funeral pyre, rather than survive him—will
themselves weep over the tomb of a husband
for a few days, and then, for rotting all past
love and sacred VOWs, seek an win and take
another to their widowed breasts—cast 03
their mourning weeds of mockery, and be
smiling brides again. Is not this true ?

And how few do we see in this heartless,
modern world, which I so much despise, who
will, like Dyagetto, love and mourn their
dead, through a long, dark life-time—how
ser few? _

gain I say that the heroism of love, in
hearts which despise the heathen, is more
scarce than honesty in Wall street, or patriot-
ism in a olitician—twa things utterly un-
known, an out of date.

But back, wild. wandering mind, back from
therfield of reflective truth to the pathway 01

in story. _

Vl)yagetto sat there alone, a _quiet sorrow
resting upon her noble face, like a shadow
upon an unrufiled lake. But a footstep near
her door aroused her from her pensive atti-
tude, and she listened, as if fear of annoyance
was in her breast, and pushed back the In-
dian lam of fish oil, which had out upon the
table be ore her, and shadowed it With her
hand.

“ Is it that accursed Aroghyadecka, who
lcomes again to) torment me, .as he threatened,
.or the good Spirits of the Night, who so long

have bron ht the widow food, though she
was forbidden to look upon them?" she said.

She paused and listened, for the footste s
had ceased, and all was for a moment stil.
Then a voice, low and gentle, like one which
she had heard in tones of love, long years be-
fore—and who can e'er forget that veice of
love f—came softly upon her ear, from the
front of the lodge.

“ Can Dyagetto make her. heart brave, no
that she can; look upon the Spirit of the ngllfi,
and feel no fear 9”

For a moment the woman trembled and
paused, for brave, indeed, were she, who
could be calm in such circumstances. Then
gpthering back her brave thoughts, she w-

lied - _ _
p “ D’yagetto will pra to the Great Spirits.
and then her heart wil know no fear.”

And for a moment her heart looked up to
God, and asked for strength; and who Will say
that He would be deaf to such a “ heathm‘s ’

rs er?
p hen she said calmly, and without fear:

" The heart of Dyagetto is clean, her eyt'
are open, and sheNis potnafraid to gaze upon
the S irit of the i t

“ Epven if it coineg in the shape of the lost
Ognhtee?” continued a vome.

“ More glad were Dyagetto to see the shape
of her lost Ogahtee than to. look upon” all
the glories of the happy hunting-groundl .

Soft] the door opened, an the white
haired ludian—the hither of her children, the

husband of her youth—stood .before hers bl!
tall frame quivering with a life-emotion too
powerful for other utterance. ‘
Oh, how piercing are the eyes of true love!
No banda ed Cupid let me see I Love u
duct blind? Though sorrow and suffering
'Ihad bleached the hair she last had looke
'upon when 'etty was its hueuthough the
once smooth row was now furrowed by many
a deep line of care and woe, and though the
long sufferin ,
her e e, like her heart, can] not be deceive ,
and s a bounded with a wild cry to his arms,
even as a lost ecabild would leap to meet “I
moth r and cri :
u i. Ogahtee’s «in blest Spirit of on

Night!”

Andfor a use no sound was heard, ssch

 

the beating of two hearts, one against the
other, and the heavy breathing from lips which
could not speak.

Then tears came fi-om the heavenly portals
of 'oy, then low words of gladness were heard,
an a tale of suffering and woe, on either
part, was told, so mingled with the happi-
ness of the present that it hardly could seem
sad, even like the shower that comes when
the sun is.sliinings

“ Have you seen ournoble Thayendanegea l’”
asked Dyagetto, after the first explanations
were over.

“ My eyes have watched over him for many
moons, even as the eagle looks closely after
its youngl” replied Ogahtee. “ An ," he
added, “he is fit to rule the Mohawks now,
and lead them on to battle. And to-morrow,
when Aroghyadecka goes down to darkness,
black as his own heart, Thayendanegea shall
stand before them as their chief. But to him
we now must go, for he must know his father.
The time has come.“

Bearing with her an embroidered belt and
hunting-shirt, which she had made for him,
Dyagetto hastened with her husband to meet
her son. All was yet night without; but there
was no darkness within the hearts of those
who went forth in it—all was light there.

Not many minutes had the old lodge been
empty, bef re the stealthy steps of two persons
approache , and soon the forms of two of our
'3 aracters made their aptpearanoe at the door,
which in love’s forget ulness had been left
open, as well as the light burning by Ogahtee
and his wife, when they went out.

First the hateful face of Aroghyadecka, none
the more improved by the fiery ordeal through
which Hon Yost had so latel passed him,
peered in through the 0 en oor, and then
over his shoulder looked t is scarred visage of
his son Ipisico, of whom we have lost sight for
a long time, but who had in some wa regain-
ed his father’s favor, perchance for is very
ugliness and natural deviltry.

“ She is not there; she has heard our steps,
and fled like the frightened doe from its nest,
when it bears the hunter come l” said the old
Indian.

“ If we hide, she will come back to her
nest,” said the son.

“ We cannot wait. We must be ready for
the council, to-morrow; for soon our warriors
must tread the war-pathl” replied Aroghya-
decka, and he turned away, followed by Ipisico.

CHAPTER XXX.

“ Well, we are here. Where is he who sent
for me 1’” said Thayendanegea, impatiently,
gist at the day’s dawn, as he stood with Hon

ost before the lodge in \he ravine, where
Ogahtec had dwelt so long. ,

1‘ He said he vould be here mit do da li ht,
und he always speaks for true 1” replie on
Yost.

“ Yes—my tongue is not forked—I am
here I” said Ogahtee, as he stepped from the
lodge, with Dyagetto by his side, his arm
upon her neck, and her’s around his waist.

And nobl now did he look, for he wore the

rich garb o a chief, and alofty look of joy and
pride, such as Thavendane ea had never seen
um wear before, though 0 ten the youn In-
dian had sought him there to hear wor s of
advising wisdom from his lips, little knowing
who it was that spoke them.

The young Indian looked at both and their

osition with suspicious astonishment , but
id; not speak, for he knew not what to say or
as . ‘

“ Does Thayendane es remember the land of
the Miamis 9’ asked yagetto.

“ He has not forgotten the dogs that live to-
ward the setting sunl” replied Thayendano
gea.

“ And does he remember that there his
mother promised that the time should come
when he should know who his brave father
was 1’”

“ Thayendanegea remembers that we came
to seek his grave !”

“That rave had not been filled! Behold
Ogahtce, t is true chief of the Mohaw-ks, and
your father I" cried the proud mother I

“M mind is dark—make it more light,”
said he endanegea, still with distrust.

And t en to.him the tale of wonder was
told,rso strange and yet so true, and he lean»
ed for the first time who and what he was. and

 

why he had been so much inclined to sever r

ence the white-haired man, whom now he
knew as father, and embraced with the filial
love of a son. Hard were it to describe the
feelin s of those so long se arated, but now
unite , to part only when dim. should send
his messenger unto them.

It is only just to say, that Hon Yost danced
a Dutch hornpipe for very glee, broke his
“ smoke-pipe,” and kicked over and shattered
his beloved “ prandy pottle,” in honor of the
occasion, and never grumbled at his loss.

But while this was going on as a “solo” upon
his part, or rather as a “ voluntary," Ogahtee
and his son were arranging their plan for pre-
senting themselves before the Council of the
Mohawks, which the knew had been ordered
to assemble on that ay.

What those plans were, anotbr chapter and
their result must show. ,

CHAPTER. XXXI.

Perhaps no scene in the world would re-
mind one of the potent gravity of those great
sages and craters, who once gave laws to
Greece and Rome, when they were powerful
as republics, and first among the known as-
tions in art and civilization—of the wisdom of
those old senators who listened to a Demos-
thenes, and a Cicero, in rave silence, and
though! of what they heartf. than the sight of
an Indian council in full assemblage, upon an
im ortant occasion.

have been present at more than one, and
as I saw them seated around their council fire,
the oldest warriors and the chiefs within, and
the younger braves without the circle, first in
solemn silence passing around the pipe which
all must whiff, and then in a quiet, still as the
tomb, listening to each warrior who rose in
turn to speak, I have contrasted the scene
with the noisy debates, the lack of‘dignity,
and respect each for the other exhibited b
our senators and representatives, which
have witnessed in our national councils at
Washington, and felt that the savages were
by far the most respectable in‘ their demeanor

The Moliswks were in council; their fire
lighted in the huge wigwam devoted to that
purpose; the sentinels posted like I Ian-with-
out, to keep back any curious istener or
eavesdropper who might ap roach the sacred
building; for no Christian olds his church
more sacred—nay, a parently not half so much
so—as the red men 0 their council houses.

The pipe of friendshi had passed from lip
to lip, and all was still at the slight crack-
ling of the fire that formed the centre of the
circle.

Aroghyadecka arose, his crimes as at all

unknown to is tribe, and while be old a
black belt in his hand, he s oke : r ' v
“ Brothers: it is alread nown to you, that

the rest chief of the a e-faees—our father,
Sir illiam Johnson— as gone up to the land
of spirits. His children are crying. And we
weep with them Their hearts are under s
cloud—its shadow also rests upon us. But an-
other chief will fill his place as our friend, from
the Great Father, King George, beyond the
bi salt waters 1”

e paused a moment. and taking a red
belt from his nearest attendant, Ipisico, con. '
tinned: - '

“ Yet while our hearts are sorrowful for the
loss of cur rent friend I have news to tell
that will ma' c you lad. Before he passed
away, he bade me ca this council, and to tell
you that he wished you to shar en your

nives and hatchets, and to be re y to tread
the war- ath. The men of Boston have
broken faith with their Great Father, and
many more pale-hoes through the land mean
to do the same. Our Great Father has dug
u the hatchet to punish them. He calls upon
his red children, the M ohawks, to help him do
this work. He will give us many guns, mucb‘
powder and lead, an fire-water, and feed our
wives and children, while we are far swa
upon his war-path. I told our friend an
father that for myself I was a friend to King
George. I would dig up the hatchet, paint
my face, and fight for him. F01 ou it is
to say—will you go where Arog yadecks
leads 1‘”

A murmur of approval followed; then a!
was still, and Thayendanege‘a, the most popu~
lar of all the youn er braves, arose and said:

" Brothers and athersl I have not lived
so many winters as many of you, but I know
that vour cars will be open to my words, and

 

Thayendanegea, the Scourge.

1.9.

 

 

 

I will speak. Brothers! I am glad that the
hatchet is to be dug up and that we are again
to walk the war-path, for I am tired of doing
nothing. My heart is hungry for action.
But I must tell you a story brought to me by
a bird. It is about a brave chief who loved
his people and was beloved by them—for he

was first upon the war-path, and his wigwam ,

was ever open to the ban ry and the naked.
But there was a snake in is tribe. And he
wound himself around the neck of the brave
chief, and dragged him away to a cave, and
hid him, and his people mourned for him as
(lead! And the snake, who worked in the
dark, and was more cunning than the fox,
came out among the people, and made him-
self eat.

“ rothers, I am ready to tread with you the
war-path, but first behold the snake, and look
upon my father, Ogahtee, your rightful and
long-lost chief 1”

And as the young brave uttered these
words, he pointed with one hand at Arogh a-
decka, and with the other at his father, w 10,
at that moment, walked into the council-house,
clad in the most regal of savage garbs.

In an instant Aroghyadecka s rung to his
feet with a look of defiance on iis face, but
when his eye met that of O ahtee, he sunk
down to the ground again, an , while he utter-
ed a low groan, he drew his blanket over his
head,” for he knew that he was ia't—the In-
diuns had recognised their chief.

And then and there was seen that stoic and
sage-like gravity, of which I spoke at_ the
openin of this chapter. The whole circle
knew t eir chief, but remained silent for him
to tell his story, and make the explanation,
which they knew he would give.

He advanced within the circle, and in uiet
dignity told all, even to the poisoning 0 Sir
William Johnson, by the traitor, who cowered
in their midst.

When he was done, an aged warrior arose
and said :

“ Brother, Father, and Chief! we welcome
youas one who has come back from the spi-
ritnland tovusl Our hearts, which lon bled
for your loss, are made whole again We
will make a feast, and our peo 1e will all re-
'oice. And when the hatchet is du up, none

at Ogahtee shall lead the Mohaw on the
war-path! I have spoken !"

 

' When an Indisn’s crime, morning death, ls-dis-
covered by his brethren, he is never or scarcely ovss
known to'try tosscaps, but covering his head in dos
pair from view. silently awaits his trial and his doom

Oganwe, who had sat down, rose to his feet
again and said :

“ My ears are open to my brother’s wards !
But Iain old and my limbs are stiff, though
in heart is warm and strong for in people.
'1‘ syendanegea is my only son. on know
that he is brave. Let him lead the 'Mohawks
to the field. I have done i”

A single word, and that of ap roval from
sll the council, exce t Ipisicosn ' his doomed
father, told how we 1 the pro osition was re-
ceived. Thsyendaneges was t eir leader

Another warrior now arose and demanded
that the “malts” should be sentenced to his
deserved doom. But Ogahtee rose and said:

“ Brothers, it is not for us to defile our
hands with his blood. He has murdered a

l‘c-face, let him meet his trial and his doom
at theiiohands. Send him to the great castle,
and there let him be given u to those whom
he lost wronged. For in so] I forgive him—
I cannot tread upon a fal en foe !”

Aroghyadecka moaned in agony when he
heard these words, for he would rather hays
had every hatchet there used in choppin him
limb from limb than meet the fate who he
knew would be in store for him when his
‘ treachery was known at Johnson Hall.

A guard of young braves instantlv arose
and bore the wretched criminal away, while
his shamed son slunk away from the council.
Then, with all formality, the pipe'was once
more passed ‘aronnd and the council-fire put
out.

The council was over, and could not again
be called but by order of the chief. Then,
for the first time, lad shouts rent the air-
guns were fired an a feast was uickly pre-

red to show how gladly the Mo awks wel-
comed IOgahtec back—how they could best
do him honor.

~—

CHAPTER XXXII. ‘
moylv>W‘swly the funeral cortcgs which

had ' uried all that was mortal of Sir Wil-
liam Johnson was returning to the ball. And
at the same time, more rapidly, a large body
of gaily-dressed Indians were up roaching
from the direction of the Mohaw village.
Proudly, upon his coal-black steed, yet as
fiery as when he first bestrode it, et as all-
obedient, rode Thayendanegcs at tieir head,
and by his side, on either hand, rode Ognhtee
and his noble mother, Dyagetto. And, back
in the centre, close bound and guarded, was
Aroghyadecks, now so far back into the In-
dian mood that showed neither fear or contri-
tion. but glared hatred and defiance upon all
around him.

The Indians moved more slowly as the sad
array of mourners met their view, and it was
not until all of the females had passed into
the hall, that Thayendanegea rode u to the
porch where Sir John JohnsOn an others,
males, of the household waited to know the
meaning of this visitation.

“ Why were you. of all the rest, away from
the funeral of my father, to whom on surely
owed some duty and respect?" said, Sir John.
with stem sadness, to Thayendanegea.

“ I owed a duty and res act to my own
father, Ogahtee, the Chief o the Mokawks !"
said Thayendanegea, proudly, as he ointed to
his noble-looking father. “ And a tyI have
done to you and your father’s memory, for I
brin his murderer here for you to deal with l"

“ is murderer—my father murdered .'" cried
Sir John, as he looked at Aroghyndecka, who
had been brought forward at a sign from
The endanegea.

“ es, I killed him ; he would have robbed
me of my rights—I have lost all now; kill me
if you are not a coward i" cried Aroghya-
decks, who hoped, by exciting an instant re-
:Enge, yet to escape the doom he most dread-

I"

“Madness—he was not slain, no mark of
violence was upon him!” cried Sir John.

“Indian poison leaves no mark!” said the
old Mohawk, with a sardonic smile.

“Who else can prove this, for surely the
man must be insane to thus commit himself
to a deed for which he shall hang so sure as it
is true i"

“ Me—Hon Yost——knows dst he did it, Sir
Yohn Yohnson,” cried our old Dutch friend,
pushing throu h the crowd which had gath-
ered near. “ shmelt der cround-hsmlock in
der silver bowl vot your fader drink his
prandy mit—den I go and meet der Iu'un on

er trail and sharge him mit it, und, at in
himmel, dcr olt Tnyvel-bug tried to make
avay mit moi Dat’s der truth, so help me
mine Cot i" '

“ Put the red villain in the guard-house
under a strong guard—shoot him if he tries
to escape. A short shrift and a stout rope
shall be his doom after a roper examination I”
cried Sir John, now reddening with excite-
ment, for he beggn to feel that, indeed, had his
father perished y means most base and ‘un-
natural.

Then he bade Thsylendaneges and his friend
to slight and enter t e house, that he might
hear the history which they had to reveal.

It was near the sunset of another day, and
in the grove back of Johnson Hall, a far dif-
ferent scene was about to be enacted than has
yet been my lot, in this work, to'describe.

A rude gallows had been erected, so far
back that the sight could not be seen b those
whose sex shou d ever kee them backln hor-
ror from a scene of via ent death, though
blessed an els oft are they when they stand
by the be side of the sufferer, to soothe him
or her in the sgonies of dissolution, and, with
sym athetic tear and gentle hand, to close the
eye Just land by the frost of death.

Aroun this gallows was formed a detach.-

Donald, _in which the late baronct had taken
such delight, and their stern visages and re-
vengeful eyes boded no good will to the con-
demned prisoner, who stood upon its platform
abovetheir bayonets, ready to meet the fate
to which he had been sentenced by stern and
' relentless judges. ‘
Around, also, as close as they could get,
were the many tenants and retainers of the
estate, rominent amen t. whom were our
friends
secretary Laflerty, Mr. O'Whackam, etc. But
not a sin 1e Indian was in view .It was s
sight who they more than all men on earth
dread to see. 4 '. .‘
Upon the , scaffold beside ‘Aroghysdscks

l

 

a

meat of the armed Highlanders under Mc- .

sly—not the Patrick—but the doctor, ' a
through the chill darkness—one who.
is coward, feared not to seek, psrchancs, '

 

stood Hon Yost, for he had asked the privi-
lege of hangin “ Old Tuyvelbug,” to whom
he had always elt an antipathy, but increased
by the Indian‘s late attempt upon his life.

The ro e was already around the Indian's
neck, and butatouch of the tipping-board,
which served for a drop, was required to
“launch him into eternity,” as the reporters
say. But, by the looks occasionally cast
around, it would seem that some one was
waited for before the execution 'could be con-
eluded.

Many were the remarks made by the by-
standers, but not one which exhibited anv
feeling for the criminal, who stood like 'a
bronze statue of defiant hate—u. scowl u on
his brow, a flashing pair of eyes, lips c oss
drawn, and a form more firm than the stout
post by his side.

“ Faith, it’s a stifl’ dance he'll make when
he threads upon nothin’!” said Lafl'erty to
O‘Whackem. “ There’s never a quiver to lip,
leg, or eye-lash !"

“It’s because we haven’t any music for
him. poor dog, If we had, he might give us
a semi-quiver at any rate !"

“Och, boys, he’s no subject to be joking
at i" said Doctor Daly.

“ Be asy now, doctor dear, an’ jist think
what you said at dinner i" cried the school-
master. “You were sayin' what a capital
subject, he’d make for dissection. Och, it’s
yourself will be cutting worse jokes on him

irectly, I’m a thinkin'!"

This battle of words was now out short by
the appearance of those by whom he had
been tried, who, with Sir John 'Johnson
among them, approached, according to custom,
to see their sentence executed.

Now all was silence in the crowd; for they
felt what all must feel, no matter how vile the
criminal, an inward thrill of horror at the
approach of the ver moment when a human
being is to be cool y cast from life into the
jaws of death, before their very eyes. Men,
who glory in the ssnguinary excitement "of i
the battle-field, will shudder at such a mo-
ment.

N this instance, when the signal was about
to be given, the prisone'. whose hands had
apparently been securely bound, raised both
hands, which, in some way he had slipped
from the cords which bound them, and, with
the quickness of thought, slipped the notes
from his neck, while Hon Yost stood aghast,
and, with a wild yell of triumph, cast himself
upon the tripple hedge of uplifted ha onets
below, meeting an almost instant dest , and
at last escaping the doom which he most
dreaded!

“ Dunderl Mine Got, rat a yum i” cried
Hon Yost, as he bent over the sea old, and
looked upon the téuivering body which the
blood-bespotted sol iers were trying to disen-
gage from their bayonsts. '

he crowd uttered a groan of disappoint-
ment and turned away; for they knew that all
was over with the poisoner of Sir William
Johnson. .

“ What d’yc think 0‘ your subject now, doc-
tor dsar i” asked O’Whackem, as he andlhis
friends started homcward. ‘

“ That he’s like yourself, O’Whaokcm—I
divilish bad sub'ect, and not worth the sub
tin’ u l" replic the doctor.

“’I' be a subject if you’ll stand trots, doo-
tor I” said Lafierty.

“ I’m your man for that, my boy; but what
kind of s sub‘sot will you be ”

“ Faith, a ry one, ould saw-bones!"

Thus joking, as the sons of Erin ever are,
whether it be, at a funeral or elsewhere, our
friends “ professional" passed on, and .11 w”
still and quiet, when the mangled body of
Arogh adecks lay, for no.one had touched i3
after s bayonets were withdrawn.

I.—

Is was an hour later, and .gloom seemed to
hang heavy in the sky, for dark and lowering
clouds were there. And all was still in the
grove, for no Wind stirred the branches of the
gloomygines. It seemed as if the spirits of
t a air f t that the spot where the dead inur-
derer lay was scanned, and while they hung
the heavy (poll of gloom far, far above, below
the Wool not some!

at one comes shuddering and crespin
thou is:

lost friend .upon earth-g-for the world hold-
blckin horror even, from the son of amurs
deter—and

this was Ipisico. come to “mind "

 

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20

The New York Library.

 

moan above the mangled corpse of his father,
whose brave leap from life to death he had
witnessed from a tree—to ,not ve far awa ;
but in whiohhe had lain concea ed until 0
felt certain no one was near the body.

0h, tell me not there is a heart so bad in

i all this wide, wide world, in which there is
'not one ‘good drop of blood. Inhuman, as
ignorant, is the Immunity which would utter
it.

Here, in the gleam of night, we see one of
the worst of our characters-one who is cow-
”srdly, treacherous, malicious, and false——w1th
enough of filial love to seek his deliraded pa-
rent's corpse, perchance to give it urial, nor
leave it to the dogs or wolves, as better men
would do—at least, to shed the tear of sor-
nwthere.

He finds all that is left of Aroghyadecka,

v whose faults for etting, we can half afford to
pity, and casts imself upon it, with a low,
I ' d moan, which speaks like the voice of a
breaking heart

But, hark! Quick, loud, and fearful another
voice is heard. It is the voice of the storm
which has been gatherin in black silence
overhead. The bursting tiunder shakes the
earth! The red lightning leaps along the

wsky,‘ stoops down to earth, shattering every-
thin it meets, scattering only when its fiery
war is done.

Ah! see, a red bolt strikes the gallows tree
——down it speeds on him who can feel but
heeds not, on the senseless corpse as well—-

2 and Ipisico is beyond the reach of hate and
'scorna-his freed s irit speeds on win of fire
to look for that o his—father in the haunting-

., grounds above!

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Once more, reader, leap with me over a
'la‘pse‘of time, which, thou h full of thrilling
incidents, all closel linked with the struggle

'- of our brave forefat era for freedom, still may
* not be embraced within the narrow limits of
’ a melons,“ this only professes 'to be.
This much I will say: Guy Johnson, after
becoming the king’s superintendent of Indian
mafi'airs. through a manoeuvre characteristic of
" himself—and on already know him—married
Leonore pub icly, though she long had been
- his-wife; and ‘Onalova became the bride of
= Sir John-Johnson, against the will of O ahtee
“and Dysgetto,-who, proud of their . lood,
' would not that one of their race should link
v with a pale-face; and Sir John, having bro-
wken‘ his parole to the American cause, had
1be‘en‘long drivon'from his immense and fair do-
mains, which were confiscated to the strict
resume. and he,‘made a general in the ritish
'"OBDlflylle raised a la e body of Canadians
mud tories called the “fihnson Greens,” and,
u with :all the confederacy of the Six Nations,
except the brave and true Onedias; to aid
"him, with The endaneges at their head—he,
xwhoenew was nown as the “ Scourge 'of the
5 Pale-Faces, and the Wan-Eagle ofcthe‘ Mo-
hawks "—he, Sir John, with Guy Johnson and
‘vthe ever-infamous Butlers.‘Waltcr and John,
sts'swesping over: the fair Valleyz'of the Mo-
hawk, down upon the Delaware, therSusque-
:-hanns,7the‘ Unadilla, and the Schohsrie, to
«hem-r0.- snd destruction ofallthat came in
the way, of lifeand reperty.
.iSo‘munh for a b' ’s-eye glmce at some of

our characters. which could not .wcll ‘be :,

~ aroided ; and, now, back to-our story, and let
incidents work their wsylonce more.
Comcvwith me 'to- the lovely valley 'of the
‘Unadilla. ' It is night, and, in. a forest dense
and lofty, behold sr-hundred gleaming fires,
and around them grow ed five hundred
bmnsed :and “well-arms Indian warmers.
.Who is--:this, tall and noblv. formed, act
'silent and stern, that stands y a lone rs,
all solitary and apart from the rest? It is the
' cat'Wor-Ea‘gle-J-it is ‘ThayenJanegsa—and

t cse are not a tithe of the red Warriors who .

look to' him as their master-spirit and! their
leader. "Why stands be there so proud, and all
‘~ alone? He feels himselfaa very king. and,
' though his throne is the lesf-strewed ground,
rhis canopy the star-gemmed- sky, his sceptre
' the rifle”! his hand, his truncheonflle hatchet

in his belt, his crownths eagle pm“ ab”. .

"his'i'ofty brow’,‘ few monarchs-mow potent in
1 their mlmthsu he. V

~1h"!"thcrs ‘comel 8 phlermwsll as .futly
h amid, lthrsadings his I war-tong “anionng
' warrier and” their, fires? to ftkstbfi Tinglin-
. .3 , _

'gi'llop from the Continental cam upon their

 

" Well, Hon Yost, what news?" asks the
chief, haughtily.

“ Vel, Mister Var-Eagle, de news is yust
dis," said our old Dutch friend: “Yenm-al
Herkimer has come to Unadilla all do vay for
to see you. Dat I finds out vile I plays dc
fool in his camp."

“ He shall see me, if he be not blind. H! w
man men has he i” -

“ ust a out four hundreds, I dinks."

“ Were t ey four thousand, instead of four
hundred, still he should see me. Thayeudan-
egea turns his back upon no man—least of all,
a foe l”

“ Und I dinks he means to send a commit-
tee, or somedinks of 'dat kind, mit a vite flag,
in der morning. I listen by der general’s pig
tent. and hear dem talk that way.”

“ No committee of rebels shall visit my
camp!" said the chief. “ Yet will I see him.
He was once my neighbor and m friend 1 He
has 'oincd the wrong side, and, i we meet in
battle, he must pay the cost l”

The chief then called a subordinate to his
side, and bade him place pickets far in ad-
vance of his lines, to prevent any intrusion
into his camp, and to ard against surprise.
Then, turning to Hon ost, he said:

“Go back to the camp of the pale-faces,
beware of their fire.water, and gather more
news. Let me see on in the morning i”

“ I vil go,-Mister ar—Eagle, but yust blease
let me «have a tollar or'two, to make mine
fun with.”

The chief .drew the money from his pouch
and cast it haughtily upon the ground, at the
feet of the spy, saying:

“ Take it--go--but beware of the fiss-
wsterl You know msl"

If I didn’t, den does no ody, ven I seen
yousince a pay!" muttered on Yost, as he
picked up the money and hastened away
upon his errand,

The chief now drew‘ his blanket closer
around him,‘ and yeast himself upon the

round, to close as securely as an emnsror

sin his palace.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

'It was morning, and the' sun rose upon a
lovely scene. Out beyond a forest, dense and
dark, that wherein» lay Thayendanegea and
his band, was a lovely plaiu.~and it was dot-

. ted with the white tents of the little but well-

appointed armyi‘of the brave Herkimer. There

' the music 'of mustering men, turning out for

guard-mounting, could be heard, and bright

v arms glittered in the rays of the just-risen sun.
_And white pillars of smoke rose from their
wmany camp-fires and vanished away in the
«blue ether‘above.

But-from that forest of dark green, no

'smoke-cloud rose to tell where the army of

the forest king was eucamped, or what his
numbers'wers. He' was too wary for that.

z-It was enough for him to assure his ale-

faced opponent of the presence of In ians
there, by'sending out small ickets of red-
shinnedvrarriors, who, in their bright blan-
kets and eagle plumes, strode to and fro in
front of the edge of the forest, often vanishing

u basin intolits shadows, than coming out again.

(A little later, and, with a bugle sounding at
their head and a white fla borne by one of
the number, a band of gin -dressed ofiicers

hing chargers toward the crest. And
then,- advancin to meet them, on foot, but
.slowly, and wit ‘ haughty steps, a band of the

‘ red men come forth from their covert of green.

The hear an answerin ‘ flag of truce.

T e parties meet an; halt.

“ What do the-pale-faces want?” asked the
leader of the body of red men.

“ I wish to see Thayendanegea i" said
General Herkimer himself.

“ Wait till he comes," was the repl given
by that subordinate chief, for‘ such he only
was, in a tone as haughty as‘if he were talk-
ing only to a slave. And then he uttered a yell
more loud and shrill than any clarion h set
that ever rent the air.

An answering c
shades beyond, an soon, ‘morc plainly cl’ ,
but better armed than any warrior of that
little band, a single Indian came forth from
theforest, and strode with a stately step to-
ward them. His eagle eye, hisvtall fanatic

'roud step, but too plainly told‘ that it‘ was
ghayendane ea who came. As be advanced,
his warriors rew up in a half circle; and, upon
.thcother side, the whites did the' ssmq'hav-
dismounted from their horses.

was heard from the leaf '

 

Thayendane ea stepped within the circle
so formed; an , as General Herkmire stepped
forward, the chieftiau stood with folded arms
across his breast, not deigning to see the ex-
tending hand which the general meant to
offer him, and said:

“ Why have you come here so near to my
cam ?"

" pon a friendly visit!" was the general‘s
reply; “we are old neighbors and friends,
and must not war together i" ‘

“Have all those pale-faces come upon a
friendly visit, too ?” asked the chief. “ All
want to see us poor Indians? It is am;
kind I"

And the curl of his proud li , and the flash
of his dark eye, told what he elt and meant;
while, as he spoke, he ointed to the distant
tents, and the men at iered there in crowds
to look at the interview.

“ I would like to visit you in your camp l"
said the general, washing still to preserve a
friendly bearing with the haughty chief.

“ My cam is too small for so big a chief
as on. on are near enough!” was the
rep 
“ h do your people make war upon our
people in the Valle of the Mohawk l"'now
asked the old genera , coming stones to the
object of his visit.

“ Because you war upon King George, who

‘ is our friend. His belts we“ wear—we are his

men !” was the calm replg.

“ But you are wrong. or forces are strong,
like the trees of the forest; in number, like
the leaves upon the trees We can sweep
away all our foes, as the fire hurns‘thc dry
grass in the fall I”

Thayendanegea laughed scornfully, and ut-
tered s shrill yell. In a moment, more than
five hundred ainted and armed warriors
burst from the forest with deafening whoops,
discharged their guns; then, at a wave of
Thayendancgca’s hand, fell back! in silelice out
of View.

“:Count these an hundred times, andiyct more
warriors can I bring into the‘ ficldl”'cried
Thayendanegea, haughtily. ‘ “ Go 'back, and
tell those so who sent you here! I You are in
my power; but we have been‘neighbors‘and
friends, and I will do you no harm l" 1

The chief said, nor would he hear 'any
more, but strode back as he came, full as
proudly as a kin with millions at his-back.

‘ And the pale- aces dared not follow him,
for the advantages u n his side "were far too
great for them to iris a battle.

CHAPTER .XXXV. .

A lofty hill, rock-ribbed but tree-crowned,
is that which overlooks from its southern
bank the Mohawk at its Little Falls. And
from this lofty height the eye can stretch far
away along too thread of silver water from
east to west, and s with p ensure down
upon the rushin ,‘ coming, flashing torrents
hat dashes b be ow.

Upon this eight, some time after Thaycn-
dane ea had met the fearless Herkimer at
Una illa, stood two women. ' One, whose
hairs beginning to speck with threadsof gray,
proves that age is coming, that upon her, or
hat care is doing the work of time, is our old
friend Dy etto, the mother of tlw Eagle of
he Mohavtis. ‘Still stern and commanding,
till beautiful, still every inch a forest queen,
but yet lookingfar more sadly than when; we
saw her last—for then she was all-radiant
with joy in the recove, of a long-lost hus-
band—in the triumph 0 her noble boy.

But who is this by her side ? An Indian
maiden; st for such, how peerlessly beauti-
ful! Tal , of quplisite form, so well revealed
by her forest gar , with eyes large, black as
starless night, yet so piercing that the seem
at times to look you through, an then
again to melt into your very soul with their
liquid light-Jeatures which can express the
haughty pride of a ohainless will, or ct-ths
tender thoughtsof a heart which can , e in

.zpite of the pride which bids it own no mas-

. r.
The picture is drawn; but who—wan is she
that‘thus breaks, in majestic Manta?! upon
the wild panorama of our story?  the sc-
quel tell. , , _.
They stand upon the very ver of the
cliff which on c stream be ow, look-
ing with straining eyes up the river, as if from
thence a vieiteereroted. _ x,
Back from them, '1: a lovely mymofrgsdar,
is a single wigwam, and the small firs before

 

Thayendanegea, the Scourge.

21

 

 

 

 

it shows that It is their camp. And but a
little way to the left is a mound of newly-
heaped-up round. Can it be that. “ dust re-
turned to net” is reposing there. and that
death has laid another of his countless vic-
tims there? .

“ Your eyes, so young and bright, Iona,
must surely see a s eck far up the river i"
said Dyagetto to tie maiden at her side.
“ His runner said that he would be here when
the sun was so high that it cast no shadow
from an upright tree, and Thayendanegea
never spoke false words !"

“ I see nothing but a duck upon the river's
breast i" said the maiden. “ And it is not yet
his time; for, see, our shadows fall yet toward
the west 1"

“ Iona does not love, else she would not be
so patient. Time is a snail, it only crawls!"

“ How can I love him, whom my e es
have not looked upon 1’” said the mai en.

ealml .

“gis name—his fame—he is chief of all
the Nations of the North—he is my son!"
dd Dyueuo, im‘pletuously. I

“ He may rule the warriors of the North.
and yet not hold control of one proud heart l’
said the maiden, with a flashing eye, while
she pressed her hand over her heart, to indi~
cate her meaning. Then she added, more
calml : “When I look upon him, if he is
what have seen in my dreams, I shall love
him. and if I love him, he must love me. and
I will win him or I will die l”

“Surely now I see something far up the
river!" said D a etto.

“Yes!” sai ona; “ it is the flash of a
paddle, dip ing up water in the sun-rays!"

After a s ort pause, she said :

“ It is a canoe. and there are two in it; and
one is a warrior, the other is a woman. He
said he would come alone .’"

And already, thou h she said she loved not.
the maiden's eyes dashed, and a fierce look
told that she fancieda rival ere she had found
a love. In some hearts jealousy is natural,
intuitive, and in such hearts to love is to be
forever miserable l

Swiftly down the rapid stream, more swift.
‘y as they drew nearer to the falls, came the
canoe, and both the women watched its mo
tions without a word, for though Dyagetto's
face expressed surprise, not unmixed with
anger when the keen eyes of Iona saw, and
her lips announced, that there was a woman
in the canoe with the warrior, she a ke not
the thoughts which gathered in her rain.

The canoe. coming down the centre of the
stream to take advantage of the current, shot
along almontto the falls; then Thayendanegea,
with a powerful arm, turned its prow toward
the shore, and in a moment more was there.

“A pale-faced woman, perhaps a prisoner!”
muttered Dy to.

“If 'Ihaye ane ea is so gentle to a pri-
soner, what woul he be to a m’fe!" said
Iona. as she saw him carefully lift the pale-
faced maiden up the rocky bank. The sar-
casm in the tone of Iona was not lost on Dy-
agettc. who replied : .

“Tbayendanegea brings no pdejoced wife
to m wi am. One of my children has
banal {inksd'with a pale—face; the other new
I '9

Carefully up the rocky height the War-
Eagle helped the maiden whom he brought.
now clinging to a bush, then passin at a
bound some deep ravine, cut in the hi l-eide
by a rain-torrent, lifting her with a single
arm, while he held his trust rifle in the other
hand. And soon he rescued the hill-crest,
and stood before his mother. who, in the
pale-faced girl, though she was wan and
wasted, as i by care or privation, she at once
reco ised Kathleen Johnson.

_ d was her look, and solder still her
words. when she bade her son welcome. and
she looked with a fierce and bitter eye upon
poor Kathleen, as she led the way to the wig-
warn

" He Is my dreaml’f muttered loss. as she

' upon the tall and kin ly. form of They-
leadane ea; then her e fiashedwildly.»
she .90 ed upon Katheen andsmultered—
“What does she beret—a snake ,in my
"t ..

“ Where is my father I" asked the War-
Esgle, as he stood before the wigwam, and
saw him not within.

" Tilers !" and Dyagetto pointed to the new-
made mound.

".It is we"! lie has made a long journey,
and is at rest!" said tlu' sun. calmly,“ he

 

looked at the grave of his father. Then,
turning to his mother, he said: " We are hun-
gry— at us food l"

“ y is that pale-face here 2“ asked Dya-
getto. without ln-eding his demand.

“ Because I, Thayendanegea. chose to bring
herl I am not used to annur questions, but
to ask them I" he replied, haughtily; then, he
added : “ You are my mother—l will say no
more i"

“ Is she your wife i“ asked D 'agetto.

“ No—here is my wife l" t iundered the
War-Eagle, touching his rifle. “ Will you get
us food, or shall I seek it elsewhere ?"

“Iwill get it!" said Dyagetto, new in a
moment as calm in comparison as she before
had been angry.

Thayendanegea said no more to her, but,

inting to a couch of skins, said to poor

athleen. who, ale and tearful, had stood
terrified before t is wigwam :

" You are tired—go rest 1"

Then, without so much as casting a glance
at (one, who, still as a statue, had been watch<
ing this scene, be seated himself u on the
ground. and, with his rifle across his lap,
waited for the comin repast.

The Indian girl stifi stood and looked upon
him.as if her e es were riveted there by some
magic spell. or bosom rose and fell. but
her breath seemed almost to sleep below her
lips; at last, howsver, a heavy sigh came
from her bosom—she turned away, and. with
noiseless ate a, passed out of sight, among the
shadow ce are.

The ood—savory fish from the stream be-
low, meat and bread from ounded corn—
was soon ready, and placed fore Kathleen
and Thayendanegea, and Dyagetto watched
by them in silence while they ate.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Afier Thayendanegea and Kathleen had
anished, Dvagetto arose from her sitting pos-
ture near em, and then, for the first time.
seemed to notice the absence of Iona.

“Where is Iona?" she asked. as if she
diou ht that Thayendanegea knew her.

“ and I I know her not!" said the chief.

“Was she not the lovely Indian maiden
whom I saw when we came here?” asked
Kathleen, timidly, of Dyagetto.

‘ Yes. I will go seek her," said Dysgetto.
speaking more kindly, rhape, for the uncon-
scious compliment pai to her hvorite by the
poor girl.

The woman departed, taking the path
which Iona had chosen. She soon returned
with the Indian maiden, whose eyes indicated
by their looks that she, proud as she was, had
been weeping;

“ This is on, the daughter of a chief of
the Senecas, who fell in battle by the side of
the brave Hendrick !" said Dyagetto, as she
proudl led her protege: forward. “And.”
she Idl ed. “ 1 have taken her as my daughter.
for I have lost Onalova, who chose a le-
face, and took herself out from her not er's
heart!"

And Dyagetto, as she uttered these words.
so full of meaning, looked at Thayendansgea,
to see the effect of them.

But his eyes were fixed upon Iona, who
stood with eyes downcast before him.

“ She is too big for a woman—she should
have been a warrior, like her father!” said
The endanegea.

“ fI am a woman. I have a warrior's
heart in my bosom I" said Iona, and now her
raised e 'es flashed back a light as proud as
that of is own.

“ Good! You shall be my sister. like this

r lily of the pale-faces, whom I found far
mm the wigwams of her friends, and have
taken to be my sisterl'heaid Tha endnne ,
and he took Kathleen by the hen and led er
forward. “Be sisters,’ he added, “and I
will see that neither of you go hungry or
meet with ham 1"

Iona drew :p hau htil . and would have
refused the re y han ofy Kathleen, had she
not caught the warning look of the craft
Dysgettm which told her not to do so, an
she took it. and said : .

e What the great War-Eagle of the Mo-
hawks speaks must be good. Iwill be Iu‘s
sister, and. for his sake, will try to love the
lily of the pale-faces!"

“ I am far from all other sisters. and will
love you very thou-1y !“ said Kathi-en, as also

\

 

took the hand of Iona; but she almost shud-
dered at its icy coldness.

Dyagetto, who seemed to wish to avoid a
formal recognition of Kathleen as a daughter
in the Indian form, now found sudden occasion
to busy herself elsewhere.

Thnyendnnegea, now leaving the two maid-
ens together. went to converse with his mo-
ther.

“ The War-Ea la is a great brave i" said
Iona, looking Kat leen keenly in the face, for
she meant then and there to search the Inside
en's heart.

“ Yes," said Kathleen, with a sigh.

- flas my sister known him long f" eon
miii [on 1 r x «1 Kath

“ 1. es, ong— or years " sa' -
leen, (Bugle-ti? “ He lived in my hther's
house. and once he saved my life i"

“ Then my sister loves the War-Ea le 1"

“ Why should I not? He is go , he is
brave. and I owe him a life!" continued Kath.
leen, artlessly.

" And does the War-Eagle love the lily of
the pale-faces in return 1’" continued the artful
cross-questioner, now preserving a calmness
almost unnatural to one of her passionate
nature.

“Alas! no—he has no love but for war!"
sighed poor Kathleen.

“ Why, then, did my sister leave the wig-
wam of her friends to seek the War-Eagle "

“ I could not live away from him I” said
Kathleen, while a tear stole down her Is
check. “I came weary miles to seek rim.
and now he leaves me again to go to the bat-
tle-field l"

“ Then my sister will stay here with us
until he returns 1’”

“ Yes—he so wills it! I pra ed him to let
me live near him in the camp. at he would
not let me. I am to stay here i" sighed Kath-
lecn,

“ M heart is glad to hear your words.
You s all be taken good care of l ‘ said Iona

Had Kathleen‘s eyes been keenly looking ll'
those of Ions then, she would have shuddered
at their expression. But she was looking to
ward the spot where Tbayendansgea was-talk-
ing with his mother, and only replied: .

“ I will be of no trouble to you, and wil:
try to make you and‘his mother love me very
much i"

The return of Thayendanegea with his mo
ther tan end to this conversation.

Taking up his ride, the chief said:

“I must now check to my men for a
battle is at hand. Ito one will harm you here,
and you le not be hungry, for you have
stores, and my hunters are near. The signal
of my mother will call help when it is
needed.”

Without another word of farewell. he moved
away and descended the hill. Tears rolled
down the cheeks of Kathleen. as she watched
him spring into his canoe and go' up the
river; but Iona, who stood calmly by her
side. only said :

“ He is a great brave—he is my dream!
We meet soon again i"

What a difference of character. what a differ-
ence in the expression of the feelings of each :
yet both felt the same passion—that passion.
which, with its opposite, Hats, rules the world

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Another ietnrs. It is a murky mafia
August. e air is close, and thelshy , y
wilting on branch and stem. Who dcw'e see

therm in almost utter silence in thu' darh
orest. w iieh borders, with its semi-circular
hedge, a road passin through I deep ravine
—a road causeway ovsr‘a‘ swam you!
narrow, and darkened b the shadows of the
forest on either hand I telling on in silence.
one by one, the red men come, those who
know no leadership but him with the eagle
plums. the tall. stern chief who points to every
man his station. but utters not a word—the
dreaded War-Ea le of the Mohawks. ‘

He has some .m the sic of Fort Schuy-
lento intercepthu old friend and ad hbor.
the llamHerkirner, who,with the‘brs'vg boys

of on county. 1s hasténing't‘o the relief'ol
Colonel Gansevoort, in the fort,who is en

   
  

ed by the tcl'y “Greens” of Sir John Johnson, .
the mercenaries of Barry St Le r. aod’hostl
of they'lze allies of merciful , ' 60° 1
Br!!!“ eaoh rafied use-trunk mu ,,:
the much bones, ‘ev'e basin" lay be
1. every rock :' yst' ' done thopt a

ll‘
word. all still as soon will be those who an

  
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

{-r‘wy—n- v...— .

 

The New York Library.

 

 

about to sleep in death. The War-Eagle
moves from man to man, sees that all is right,
then takes his place from whence the warning
cry must come

The ambuscade is formed !

And now we change the scene. Behold
with me, one thousand men, not trained sol-
diery, used to the arts of war, but who have
snatched their guns from the corners of their
homes, left the sickle in the field. and the
sheaf unbound, to rush to the aid of their be-
leagued and distressed countrymen, ofiicersd
by men of their own choosing. mostly young,
rash, and impetuous, as tiiey are brave.

But a ray-haired veteran sits upon his
horse in t e centre of a group of officers at
the head of this allant but undisciplined lit-
tle force. It is "Kim", brave as a lion. but
cool and prudent, wishing to lead his men to
a glorious victory, but not willing to risk an
in lorious defeat.

he ofiicers around are urging him to move
on; but be, cool and wary, wished to wait
for reinforcements which were gathering, for
he knew that a lar a disciplined force was in
his front; besides, die knew not how many of
the dreaded followers of Thayendanegea.

But rash men would not listen to cool coun-
sols.

“ Sir! none but a coward and a tory would
delay when our friends are in danger before
us," said Colonel Cox.

0‘. Yes ; if you do not give the order for as to
move on, we will go at any rate," said Colo-
nel Paris.

“ Gentlemen, you are young, and I forgive

. your language. I am no coward, but, mark

me, nor you,‘ nor I, nor half of the brave lads

 

' Cox was killed at the first tire of the enemy; Paris
taken prisoner and tortured to death by the soon;
General Berklmer mortally wounded.

with us, will ever live even to regret this
fullness! I accede to your wishes, not my
ludgmsnt—Msacn on 1"

And forward, in such order as a raw militia
enerall assumes, they moved on, led by the
rave ol eneral, his cheek burning and his

blood boiling. at the base and false imputation
of his cowardice.

Again we chan e the scene. We look along
that narrow roa by which General Herki-
mer intends to pass. We only see a drunk-
en (f) Dutchman staggering along, who sings
as he goes, in a tone loud enough to be heard
for two or three hundred yards, no more, these

‘ words :

“ Hit a shmoke-plpe in mine hand,
Unit a pottie py mine side,
1 cures not if one 1014mm mens
Should close pchind inc ride.

‘ 1 (links I’d give 'cni all do slip
Pee-use dcy'rs half asleep
0nd scattered here and dare
Yust like a flock of shedp.”

Good, Hon Yost, for an impromptu—didn’t
know you could make poetry before —but
your work is done—Thayendnnegea has heard
your words, the warnih is given. he knows
the number of the men \ehind, and the order
in which they come. Stagger quickly on,

ood spy, and get out of harm’s way, for
death wants space here.

While Hon Yost passed u that road, an
observer ever so s arp-eye might have
looked into the close greenwood on either
hand, and he would not have seen a leaf or
bush move, or heard a stick crack, or thought
for an instant that. like tigers crouching for
their prey, five hundercd warriors lay Within
an hundred feet of him

One moment forward and then back, to
witness what will chill the heart to think of.
Hon Yost hurried on about a quarter of a
mile, and then was brought to a sudden halt
b an officer, sitting on his horse at the head
0 alar 0 body of men in green uniforms—
evident disciplined and well~armed men.

“ We! , Hon Yost, your report, and quick-
ly!” cried the officer, with impatience-

“ One Wumd me“. mit Yeneral Herkimer
at deir heat, some mit rifle. us, some mit
musket— um. and some mit shot-guns, for kill
clhip bi mit—no cannon-guns at all i" said
t e s .

“ dry well,” said the officer, .5 be tossed
him a piece of gold. “ How far are they on 1’”

" Apont one mile now, I dicks, Yum-31 Sir
Yen, and do comes scattered all a at like
do gals vcn c poys plays plind-fo d in doi-

 

Chris’mas times 1"

“Then get out of harm's way—we can’t
afford to lose you i"

“Got in himmel, no more canI afford to
'ose myself," said the spy, as he passed to the
rear, while General Johnson drew his “ Greens“
up in order for action.

Render, hover with me over a battle-field,
the battle-field of Onisxsnr.

The air is close, yet clear, though risirg
clouds in the far east betokened a storm to
near. We look down, and all is still in the
forest: but we hear the clatter of horses‘ feet,
the tram; of armed men, the hurried word of
comman . Ah, see, they come, under the
tin of the United Colonies—old men, and
mi die aged, and young—some in uniform,
and some in none, but a soldier, every one
ready to battle, and, if need be, to die for their
country’s cause. On, with the veteran Herki-
mer in command—on—on they march. Now
they are in the ravine, along carelessly over
the treacherous swamp and canseway— on,
until they are within the crescent of that
thick forest—on, until the head of the line is
almost in sight of the spot where Johnson and
his tories are waiting to aid in the work of
death.

Hark! A yell—loud, long, more fearful than
that of the hungered panther on a track
None but the great War-Eagle of the Mo-
hawks could give that signal cry. The pa
triots halt, would form, but it is all too late.
From behind everytree, and rock, and bth,
comes the leaden messengers of death. Yells
as of fiends are heard on every hand. Cox,
with all his bravado, is down. Davis, Van
Sin ck, and fifty more bite the dust.

here now is the coward Herkimer? I.
the head of his men his voice is heard, cheer
ing and trying to rally all who falter. He
marks a better ground in the forest, charges
for and gains it with source one-third his men,
But now, alas! he falls—not slain, but his
death-wound is iven.

“ Place my ack against yonder tree!"
cries the hero. “Now fight—fight for God
and for Freedom l"

And there, as calm as if the life-blood was
not flowing from his wound, he sits and gives
his orders. Johnson‘s horde of tories came
sweeping down with the red men; but Her-
kimer’s voice is heard as loud almost as the
resounding yell of Thayendunegea— “ Fight,
men—fight for life or death; ask no quarter
from the fiends!"

Brit hark! Heaven‘s artillery opens as if it
would bid mortals cease their uny strife and
witness its dread power. Tie clouds that
have darkened fast above. open and shoot cut
their red lightnings, and then send down such
floods of rain that for a time the battle must
cease—the blinding shower hides foe from ice.

Where is the coward Herkimer, now 9 He
lights his fpipe as he sits under the sheltering
boughs o t e huge pine, and gives such or-
ders as are best calculatedto save his men and

unish the enemy when the shower is over.

9 orders them to form in circles, places twc
men to a tree and then quietly waits for the
storm to break, for he knows nearly. how
strong the foe are, and the struggle Will be
fearful. Where are they who called him
coward now? Some dead—acme prisoners;
but more, like base Colonel Vischer, the Arnold
of the day, fled to let the brave win or lose
the victory.

The storm of heaven breaks; but the storm
of mortal strife is renewed, and now it is far
more deadly. Closing up, hand to hand» man
meets man. Bayonne are crossed—swords
clash against swords—the toniahswk and
knife are at work i

See you tall Indian in the foremost of the
strife; no' lumes are on his bloody brow—
tliey have can stricken off—but 1) his tiger
bounds, his fearful blows, his wil , rallying
cry, all may know that it is Tliaymdane ca .
By his side, even in the thickest of the ray,
bounds a oung Indian, who thrice this day
has saved is life! .

Oh! how terrible—it is useless to describe
all we see. 01d neighbors meet ; atriot
and to clutch each other by the t roots,
plunge he cold steel into each other’s hear“
and go linked in' hate to death. ‘

But, ah i a sound from the west—a firing
from the fort. Cheer up, brave patriots, help
is coming, perchancc; at least, your present
foes have other work to do. '

The famed “ Greens” falter, and fall back.

“ Oonah ."‘ is the cry heard now from Indian

 

lips—it is the word of retreat.

Herkiiner smiles grimly. He says

“ Boys, the day is ours ; I am ready to
file i"
The (is , indeed, was theirs,- but, ah, such a
day ! Wize ing and wailing for that day ran
fast and ion along the Mohawk Valley ! One
half the patriot army had left their homes to
return no more!

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

“ You are young, but a great bravel I owe
a life to ou—three, if I ad so many!" said
Thayen ane ea. as be stood before his Wig-
wam at the ndian uarters near Fort Schu -
ler, on the night a er his retreat from he
fearful fight at Oriskany, in which his Mo-
hawks and Senecas had suffered so fearful] .

He spoke to a warrior who certainly did
not seem over eighteen, if so much: yet he
was of powerful build, so far as could be
jud ed—though his caped hunting-shirt, fast-
ene to the neck, did not expose what seemed
to be a full and brawn chest so much as the
open and careless gar , or no garb, of other
warriors; and his wide leggins, extending to
his ankles, 'conceaied limbs, which should have
been muscular. But, whatever his build, in
that da ’s fight he had shown himself inferior
in skil and valor to none but the great War-
Eagle himself, and thrice, at the risk of his
own, had saved the chieftnin’s life.

He wore his wur- aint so thickly, and a
heavy turban so she ed his brow. that of his
looks we can say but little, except that his face
seemed boyish ; but his eye—it spoke a heart
wilder, fiercer than that in the tameless eagle,
or the merciless tiger of the north.

“ Are you a Mohawk ?" continued the great
chief.

“I wish I were, that the great War-Eagle
could call me brother; that I could fight for-
ever by his side, slee only at his fire, hunt
only for him, and be his guard at all times, by
night and by day; but I am a Seneca by
birth 1” said the young Indian, modestly, but
not without enthusiasm.

" You shall have vou’r wish! Before all'

the nations I adopt ydu as my brother I” said
Thayendanegea.

“And by the Great Spirit, you will not
drive me from your side ?"

“ By the Great Spirit, I will not i" said
Theyendsneges, pleased with the earnest en-
thusiasm of his newly-adopted brother.

“Then I am content—inlife—in deatn-I
will be as I was to-day l" said the young In-
dian, and his form seemed to row more tall
and his e c _more bright, and is breast to ex-
pand witi hadppiness as he spoke. '

What won er 7 No hi her honor could be
given to a warrior in the ix Nations than he
had received—he was to be thencei’orth the
brother and life-guard of the great head of
the confederac . v

“ Where is 'IYhsyendanegea i” asked a sharp
linperstive voice near them at that moment.

“I am here. What does Walter Butler want
of me ?" asked the chief. haughtily, and em-
phasising the name which he uttered, as if

e did not like the man, or rather the mar
who asked for him.

“ General St. Leger has ordered me upon a
secret mission of great importance—I am tn
take fifteen men and you the same. Hon Yost,
whom you know, is to be our guide l"

" Where is the order? I and my men are
tired!” said Thayendanegea.

_ “ Is not my word suflicient P" asked Butler.
impatiently.

.“ I will take the word of no pale-face, be he
friend or foe. Let the general send his or
der!” said The endanegea.

Butler turn away, and went for the order,
for he dared not trifle with the man who had
but to speak to have his scalp stripped from
his head.

Not even did St Leger dare to thwart the
proud Mohawk in his ways.

Butler soon returned, and be here a polite
note from General St. Leger, in which the lat-
ter requested Thaycndanegea, the rat chief
of the Six Nations, to accompany 'eutenant
Walter Butler upon an expedition of great
importance to the cause.

The endsnsgea read the note, and, turning
to the arer, said :

“ I will gel Bring your men and guide
here—mine will be ready I"

Butler hit his lip, and a frown was on his
brow; for, aristocratic and tyrannical‘hiniself.

 

 

 

Thayendanegea,’ the Scourge. 23

 

he could not bear a master, but he turned and
went for his men.

The first of the party who made his appear-
ance was Hon Yost, evidently havi g a good
load of the “ardent” on board, an carrying
a bottle of the same in his hand.

“ Goot nicht, great Mister Var—Eagle. Vi]
on have a trink mit me? Ve are goin’ on a
eetle valk for de olt eneral ?"

“ Yes] I will take it all!" said Tliayendan-

e ea, as he took the extended bottle and dash-
it against a rock near by.

Hon Yost for a moment stood aghast. He
looked first at the fragments of the bottle, and
then at the chief, paused a moment, and then,
handing him his pipe, said:

“ Yust preak mine shmoke-pipe, too, if you
please, Mister Var-Eagle l”

“ Your head, too. if you want it done i" said
the chief, as he dashed the pipe alongside of
the bottle.

“ No, no—Mister Var—Ea le, you have
Essa]: mine heart ven you prea s mine prandy

ttle and mine shmoke-pipe—I vil keep mine
head for anodder time I”

Thayendanegea now gavs a low call, and
a subordinate chief appeared. whom he di-
rected to pick out fifteen men, true and trusty,
for the expedition.

"Am I to go as one?" asked the newly-
adopted brother.

“ We are but one, and I name you Niscayu-
In!" said Thayendanegea, and, as he armed
himself for the expedition, he threw over
Niscaynna’s shoulder a belt of the royal wam-
pom, such only as was worn by himself, and

ended him a tomahawk precisely like his
own.

He examined N iscayuna’s rifle, and said:

" This is not sure—there is a better I" and
handed him one like his own. with its accou-
trements.

Butler now made his appearance with his
men, and, as Hon Yost was quite sobered
with his loss, the party started.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

About two miles above Fort Da ton. stood
me of those old-fashioned Dutch ouses—of
which few specimens are now to be seen in
the Mohawk Valley—large gabled structures,
as full of windows as an ancient village maid-
cn is of gab—no offence venerable virgins, but
I must have a coin arisen, even if it is at your
expense—and, at t e time of which I write,
at was retty well filled with a party of (cries,
st of those who, seduced b the specious pro-
clamations of General St ger, n.d the fast
that their property would be destroyed by the
advancin foe, were being inclined to take the
side of mg Geor e.

They were a iggle ig led set. Scotch,
Dutch, but—to their cre 't it said—in that
day there were very few Irish disinclined to
our patriot cause. The roprietnr of this
mansion was a re ulsr-built, full-ri ed, old
tory Hessian, by birth and nature. is name
was Diedrich Schoomaker, yet so careful had
he been to conceal his sentiments, that the
Taryon Count Committee had not slii ped him
0 . or looks to his actions sufficient y to de-
tect him in his evil deeds. His house. being
back from the main road and in an out-ef-the-
way situation, suited the tories excellently for
s rendezvous, and as such it had been used
since the commencement of the war.

It was full midni ht, and the great kitchen
and dinner-room- oth being one in such
houses—was pretty nearly crammed with men
of the class which I have named. Diedrich
Schoomaker was in his glory, for he presided
over a puncheon of rum in one corner, from
which he measured half-pints as fast as they

were called for, and that was about as fast as r

they could be drawn by him.

“ The health of King Geor e," was the only
toast allowed to be drunk, an “ success to his
cause" was the eneral addition after the drink-
er had recove his breath.

Though most of those present seemed very
iwell contented with their cheer and their com-
pany, some there were who exhibited great
impatience, and cursed more than s little-.-
somewhst as the army is said to have done in
Flanders—because some person or persons ex-
pected did not make his or their appearance.

It was, perhaps, an half hour after mid-
night. when a, person hastily entered from
without. and immediately one of the loudest
of the grumblers cried out:

“ Gentlemen, come to onlercnd make rum",

 

for the deputation from the camp of General
St. Leger has just arrived, and Will enter the
room in one moment i"

“ Yesl and yust make room from pefore
mine rum parrel, for de ‘11 pe sure to be dry,"
cried the hospitable an most lo al Diedrich

A moment later, and Thayen unegea, who
allowed no man to precede him, either in
war or peace, strode into the room, followed
b fourteen of his fierce-lookin warriors,
N>iscayuna being close 1) his si e. Walter
Butler, headed by Hon 0st, and followed by
fourteen of his men, came next.

There was no need to say make room. When
the eople glanced at the great War-Eng]:
and if; followers, they fell back like sheep be—
fore a pack of wolves, and he moved to the
upper end of the room, near where Diedrich
Schoomaker was. through a broad avenue.

“Crest Mr. lnjun, vil on und yrur mens
have a trinlr Y" cried Die rich, wishing at once
to make favor with that party, and he ad-
vanced with a gallon measure of rum in his
hand.

“ Curse your fire-water—Mohawks are not
beasts i" said 'I‘hayendanegea, indignantly, as
he struck the measure from the astonished
Diedricli‘s hand. and spilled its contents upon
the floor, which needed washing with some
kind of liquid.

“ Mein Cot in himmels, vat a vaste I'

roaned Hon Yost, who was, as if by scent,
finding his way to the rum-puncheon with all
haste.

“ It is late, and this meeting will at once
come to order, to hear the proclamation
which I have the honor to offer in the name of
General Barr St. Leger," said Lieutenant
Butler. mounting a very appropriate stand for
a s iritcd address, it being t c wad of Died-
ric ’s rum barrel. “ But before I read the
proclamation, copies of which I have for gen-
eral distribution, I will say,” continued the
lieutenant, “ that, in the troops of both classes
which I have brought here, notes a guard, but
as a specimen. you see only a few out of thou-
sands just like them who must—”

“ Surrender to the arms of the Continental
Congress 1" shouted an oflicer, at the door,
who was dressed in the uniform of the Ameri-
can army. “ You are surrounded—resistance is
useless—he dies who tries to escape 1"

With a wild bound, and Niscayuna by his
side, Thayendsnegea sprung through the pas-
sage by which he had entered. Bis warriors
would have followed, but the terrified crowd
closed in, and cut them off from their leader.
All was terror, shouts. confusion 1

One breath. nota second, and the War-Eagle,
brandishing his tomahawk in his hand and ut-
faring his terrible yell, which was known. but
too well, was at the door—out of it, u on the
soldiers who were placed before it. wo fell
before his blows, another dropped beneath
Niscayuna’s hand, and they were clear; for
the line was broken, and they were speedin
03‘ like deer in the gloom beyond pursuit.
few scattering shots were tired after them, but
they were far wide of their mark. Soon the
forest was gained, and then Tliayendanegea
paused, and said : ‘ '

" My brave brother, we are safe!”

“The Great S lil'lf: protects the brave and
the cod!” said iscayuna,as be pressed the
han 'of the War-Eagle.

The; were safe; but when were their late
companions? Let us go back and see.

Scarce] had Thsyendanegea and Nisosyu-
as escape from the room, when, from eve
avenue, Continental soldiers entered with fixe
bayonets ; at every window littering steel
was seen. Those within saw ut too plainly
how mad and. useless it would be to resist.
Even the Indians were panic-stricken, and
stopds quistdand walited {pr the result.

“PM! 6P. Iir "sai anoflcer s roach
hag Walter Butler ’ pp

" To Whom 1‘" said Butler, turnin pslc. for
he knew the dopm generally awarde to a spy,
or an enem w osou lit ' '

“hem”. 3’ g to Incite a people to

“ Oahu.“ WON-0n, of the Continental
arm i. cried the officer, reaching his hand for
B“ 6" {won}. which was delivered.

“ Got In himmels, I surrender, too I" said
H0” Y0“. as he bent down before Dicdrish‘s
run} puncheon, and surrendered himself to full
a Bll‘llllf: of 11: contents.

. c so iers and Indians were all s
dllfll'med ;_Iuch of the persons resent 5.322
Known tones were secured. whi e tbe'rest were
dl'm'““d~ .Wltb the information that General
Aruol-l. mth s [w‘w-rful force, was at Fort

 

_.._.__.‘

Dayton, and would not only sweep the enemy
from the land, but severely punish all who
were recreant to the cause. And as the young
hero. then, of St. Johns, Montreal. the passage
of the Kennebec and Ohandierre, was in the
zenith of his fame. and known to be as severe
as he was brave, the cheek of Butler poled;
for he knew that of all others, he would be
one who. from his position, net and present,
it would be desirable to maize an example of

The prisoners, roperly secured, were
soon marched off to art Dayton; and, as might
have been so posed from what Arnold was
then. an imme iate court-martial was ordered.

lts result must be the subject of another
chapter, while we turn off for a brief space to
a scene. which it were a mortal sin in me to
fail to describe.

CHAPTER L1

After the fatal victor of 0riskunv_ General
IIerkimer was conveyed'u on a litter to his
residence, which still stun s upon the lovely
banks of the Mohawk, about twa or three
miles below the now beautiful and thriving
village of Little Falls, modernized in some
parts, yet in the room where he died, and in
another favorite room of his, left unchanged.

He bore without a groan the exquisite pain
conseguent upon his removal with a limb so
dread ully shattered ; his only thoughts of
ngon being for the loss of so many brave
frlen s and neighbors. among whom were the
Bellingers, See era. Saumons, Davis, Helmers,
Petries. Deggerts, Snells, and many others.

Upon his arrival at home, had his old medi'
cal adviser Doctor Patric been left to his own
judgment, there is no doubt in the minds of
all cognisnnt of the case.that the old hero's life
might have been saved for years, at least. But
a young French surgeon in General Arnold's
arm —pity it is that we have not his name to
ban down tothe realms of “blasted memo ,“
insisted that amputation was necessary. lFlie
old general bore the operation as he had all
other pain,without a murmur; but the pera
tor—most accounts say that he was intoxicated
—-did his work unskillfully; the arteries were
not properly taken up, and from that hour the
hero knew he lied to face again that grit:
master who exacts obedience from all

It is not hard—scarce] docsitre uire any
heroism to die upon e battle- old—one
scarce] feels the pain of a wound there, amid
its wil excitement, and the spirit leaps from
its shattered tenement almost exultingly. seem-
ing to think that it has plenty of com any in
its way to the other world. But it dbes re-
quire bravery to calmly face the hour when
one must leave all that he loves, and all that
he knows of, to step into that world which
can only be seen dimly by the eye of faith,
and from whence no traveler has ever return- '
ed to give us a chart to steer by—to die so, in
a Quiet, on} disturbed by the sobs of wee ing
friends, an to bid them be still and sec 'ow
a man can die. does require true coura .

When death was ver near, the harem Her-
kimer, who had calm y arran ed his afi‘airs,
bade his friends bring him t e Briana. He
was done with the swarm. He was familiar:
with the only two weapons necessar to sus-
tain American freedom. Readin a and. the
thirty-eighth Psalm, so that all a cut his bed
mig) t hear it, he continued until the rapid loss '
of lood so weakened his voice that it died
swa into a whisper.

0 . look with me at that bed-side—be still,
for Death stands at the door. Look upon
those gray hairs clustering around that Ills,
but massive brow—look at that eye w ioh
lately shone so bright in the lurid lore and
sulp lurous smoke of the battle- aid-ace
those lips slow] growing cold and blue, from
whence came t e words: “March on, I will
face therfoe"—thclc lips last blessed with the
words of sacred ins iruticn—look at the front
of dissolutihn slow y whitening over those
manlly features—those white hands so lately
swo -clutching, now crossed in
his broad breMt—look—bnt stop, e breat ins
not—he}! SW! The unseen spirit has pas:-
ed invisibl from our eyes, fled away from the

war of eath, who now coldly sits upon
what was only world of his victim!

O I e s ‘ 9 O

MON than seventy, or nearly seventy, y“?!
ago—I Mn not to a year or two certain of the
date—Congress passed a resolution re nesting -
the governor and council of New crk to
erect a monument, at. the expense of the
Umde Stairs, to cost five hundred dollars, a,

1

M 0-9

 

 

 

 

 

24

 

the memo of General Nicholas Herkimer.

Has it en done? Go, pilgrim. to the
snrine of departed heroism, and see the plain
slab above his grave—a grave now in the
hands of the stranger! Go, on, whose duty
it was long since to have ful lled the will of
Congress, which can be done at any time
when politicians at Albany have time to turn
their minds from corruption to right, and
from ration to justice, and weep tears of
shame a vs the neglected gravel

Omznas or Human Conan, to you, I
call! Shame these retreats. and erect the
monument yourselves! Raise rt not above his
grave. but place it on the brow of tie loftiesl
llll which overlooks the silvery Mohawk,
which he so loved, and tell the world. this
have we of Herkim‘er done, in honor of our

Gusnsr m» sssr cinna-
A Casts-run an A Hsao!

 

CHAPTER XL:

The court-martial was over. Walter Bub
ler, Hon Yost Schuyler, and others, were
found guilty as spies and sentenced to (hath!
Butler found friends. Even then as now, ar-
istocratic associations, money and family had
influence, and, at the intercession of so many

ersons as these attributes could brin to
Bear, Arnold was persuaded to reprieve ISM-
ler and send him to Albany, from whence he
soon made his escape to become the most din-
bolical scourge the Mohawk county ever
knew. Even then Arnold seemed to begin to
feel a sympat for villauy!

But poor on Yost had no friends—no
moue —but little sense—it would do to have
him dyangle in the air, and to say a spy had
been hung! Oh, yes! as even now, so 'us-
tice was then. A starving beggar steals a
loaf of bread, off—off to prison with him!
A bank president or the treasurer of a Philadel-
phia Sunday School Union, may rob the peo-
ile of a hundred thousand dollars or half a mil-
ion. audit is only a moral delusion—a slight,
turpitude, excuse the fault. sprinkle a little
perfume upon their garments, and sweet So-
ciety draw them back to thy spotless bosom l
A poor lost girl may be found wanderin in
the streets, to jail with her, while her weui‘thy
seducer seeks another victim!

Hon Yost was condemned to die. The gal-
lows was erected. The rope was ready. The
hour was named. Troops were ordered out
to uard the proceedings.

Izaaid that he had no friends. Ah, while
she lives there is one friend who never will
desert us; in peril, in crime, in tribulation a
mother will cling to her son.’

Arnold. having given all the necessary or-
ders for the execution ot the unap by Dutch-
man, had gone into the house, mt) some ofii~
cers, to wash down any qualms which he
might have had with a few glasses of wine

The glass was at his lips when an a cd wo-
man, wild and gipsy-li e in look an dress,
rushed into the room and knelt at his feet,
crying for mercy, in the name of God, for
poor Hon Yost. It was his mother who
plead. Her furrowed fa‘ce, brown and care-
worn—her streaming gray hairs, tears pour
ing out in floods, her sobs and moans should
have touched a heart of stone.

But Arnold would not hear or heed her.

Another pleader came; a man with more
heart and sense than the other, and he even
offered to suffer in his stead. “ for " said he,
“Hon Yost is mv butter. and he is more than
half an idiot. He has lived with the lndians
sad the Johnson clan all his life, and they
have influenced him. law a man and know
what I am about. Hang me in his stead, and
spars him 1“

Evan to this a al the the“ 166! 5h“ m“
and alter traitor closed his ears.

But now another influence was brought 
bear. Colonel Willett whispered a Word In
Arnold’s ear.

The latter listened to the suggestions offer-
ed. He ordered everv oflicer out of the room
but Colonel Willett. lfidding the mother and
brother of Hon Yost to remain. He then
gave orders to have Hon Yost brought before

m.

The latter was led in, closelv bound and

uarded by a file of soldiers. They were or-

red out, and then Arnold‘harshly addressed
the poor, pale, trembling creature, who, how.
ever breve he might 'ave been elsewhere,
was now dreadfully terrified.

“Villain.” said the greater villain of the
two. "I an about to rave you hung,- but

r {Salons of the other, had fallen out.

 

"A

The New? York Library.

 

you may any good-bye to your mother and
rother hcre !"

“ ()h. mine Cot, Mister Yeueral, ton’t hang
goor l-Iou Yostl" cried the unhappy fellow,

rapping on his knees.

“ What will you do for me ifI intercede for
your life ?" asked Colonel Willett.

“ Any ding—an dig vot is possible or im-
possible, Mister urnel Villettl" moaned the
poor fellow.

“ Will you go, after I have had your clothes
fixed for it, and alarm the Indians and all the
camp of St. Leger with the idea that General
Arnold is close at hand, and will attack and
cut them to pieces in a few hours with an im-
mense army? Tell them you escaped while
you were being led to execution?"

“ Yes, Mister Kurnel Villett, I vill do dot,
und scare dem all same as one flock of sheep l”

“ How can I trust you ‘3"

Both the mother and brother instantly
offered to become security for the faithful per-
formance of the promise, and Hon Yost was
solemnl assured that they would be hung if
he faile , and he most the same fats if ever he
was caught. He again renewed the promise,
saw them bound as he had been, and then,
after his clothes had been perforated in seve-
ral places with bullets, and his hat also, as
if he had been shot at while running, he was
allowed to depart. The result of the plan
will be the theme of the next chapter.

CHA PTER XLI.

It is night—we are in the midst of the im-
mense Indian encampment of the beleaguering
force around Fort Schuyler; Why do we see
these hundreds of Indians gathered Ill silence
around this one wigwam, from which proceeds
the monotonous tum, turn, tum, of the Indian
drum, and a low song ’to the Mention, or Great
Spirit? Dissatisfied with the result of the de-
feat at Oriskany, mouruin over the loss of so
many of their chiefs and raves, and angry,
too, at the deceits ut upon them by the Btll‘p
ish leaders, the In ians are holding a solemn
pow-wow to ask the Manitou, through one of
their rophets, if they shall not abandon the
expe tion, and return home.

And not alone are they discontented. Their
ale-faced allies, especially the Canadians and
casinos, who, unlike the tories. had no [tale to

influence them, but fought for ten cents a day—
were sickened with the toilsof a sie e, so far
on] a lesin game on their part. An even the
lea ers sed high words. Sir John
Johnson and any St. Leger, each probably
ut to go

ack to the pow-wow.

Except the sound of the pro het’s drum in-
side the sacred wigwam erect/s for the occa-
sion, all was still in that vast assemblage.
Each moment they expected to hear the Maui-
tou, to whom their prophet was praying,
speak through his lips.

But something comes to break the stillness
A man, with rent garments, pallid and terror
stricken face, sweating and gasping from {In
tigue, rushes in among them.

It is Hon Yost, whom the all know and
hold in awe, for the deem im one whose
brain has been touc ed by the finger of the
Great Spirit. He fears not, heads not the
pow-wow—he tells them the fate he bases-
on ed—thst an army is close at hand, which
w l sweep them away as the gale bears 03' the
dry leaves in 'uutumnl They ask him, how
many ‘l—he pomts to the trees of the forest, and
say; 9‘ More yet than they."

ark! How the pow-wow pm bet comes
sweating and steaming from his iiid . i His
face, too, wears a look of mystery, Tehrough
him the Manitou is to speak.

“ Th6 Great 8 '11.! “angrym‘thml We
must go home give feast to him a. my m
odlagufi” ad

The anitou h s oken—no no
ther words from Hon goat there. ed to" 

Generals St. Leger and Johnson soon ob-
served tho general stampede which the Indians
ere mums. and hear the rumors which,
through Hon Yost and the Ellen, .3 flying
through the English camp. »

Hon cht is sent for into their resence. ‘
“What means this, yondogo asp ,this

report that the American army is so 01%“ .e
hand !" cried St. Leger, livid with use; for,
almost sure of the surrender of the fort

morning, he was maddened at the thought 0!

 

a failure which would tear to pieces the laurel
wreath. which he believed to be already on
twined for his brow.

“ Mine cot, general. it means do truth!
Look at mine hat, mine clothes, all mit pul-
let holes in ’em 1 Mlfitl'l‘ Putlervis hang up py
de neck pefore now, and Hon Yost would ave
been hung, too, if I not preak loose from do
tam Yankees, and run like der duyvell Gen-
eral Arnold mit more as ten thousand mens is
coming fastas-h'e can, mit cannon-guns and
odder guns, and I‘m-goiu' to Canada just so
soon as der‘cdot cot uud you, general, will let
me 1"

“Go,youil v' gwretch, o i" said St. Leger,
“ but if you {3.811016 snot er word of this in
temp, I will hang you higher‘than Haman was

un . -
Hgon Yost rushed out, and at the same in-
stant an Oneida Indian was brought in b an
officer, who verified the statement of on
Yost, whom he had seen beford he reached the

cam .

“ Ji‘his means something, General St. Leger !"
said Sir John.

“ I care not what it means, General Johnson
I ask you to go and keep your Indians here—.
I never will abandon a ost so nearly wonl
Not a man of my force a ll stir. If Arnold
comes, he shall find me inside of the fort to
meet him 1" '

A tumult outside, so loud as nearly to drown
his angry voice, was heard. ‘ ‘

“ The re coming! they’re coming I” was.
the lou est cry of a 1.

“By Heavens, it must be true, and I'm all
before I get my neck into a. noose 1" said Sir
John; and away he went to prepare, not fora
retreat, but a flight. i

“ General St. Leger, all of the men are fly-
ing, leaving arms and all behind them l" cried
one of the general’s aids, coming in at this in-
stunt.

“ God of heaven! v Then all is lost, and I
am a ruined ma‘nl At least, . to retain an
escort for me in my retreat," sui St. Leger, as
he snatched up his sword, and left the tent.

By this time, leavingguns, bag age, ammu-
nition and all, 'the wh e army investment.
or siege was in full flight. 'Never was a siege
raised by means more simple—nor, perhaps,
ever done so rapidly. Hon You was the sole

neral and army of the occasiouw He had

lfilled his pledge, and 'Willett’s,'not Arnold’s
me had succeeded. v

CHAPTER XLII.

Upon that high cliff overhanging the Little
Falls of the Mohawk, where last we-ssw hes
tearfully watching the departure of.Thayenda-
n. , we ' once more look uponom-
“ thleen." She is altered, Very much 'so,
for she is still more thin; more ale,-morsi lor-
rowful than when we last loo ed upon her.
Yet her at blue eyes look‘larger and brighter
in the w ‘te face, and her express-'on of settled
sorrow gives her an almost holy look—I mean
it not irreverentiy—a look of purity that‘is
above the earthly. > > ' i

There, with her fair hair float-23103 from
her white neck, like'ringlcts of ' ' _<' she
stands supporting 'herse f‘ by a‘ sum radar
trunk, 'mtwh‘ich she leans like some flower
blown ere'by the 'wind, snd‘hcr 'e aim
looking far, far up the river where t she
Saw him. ’ ‘

D agetto sits moodin upon a ruck near
her. er face expressing no cars or love forthe

. poor girl, and far'less anxiety for the return

of Thayendanegea.
“ Good Dysgetto, do you not see something
like a canoe far away up the river?" ' '
“My e es are the e as of an owl—theyare
old and m,” replied yagetto. “ Yours are
the eyes of a young bird; and» can see+look
foriylonrself." ‘ '

e sound of a footstep behind her—light,
it is true, at still loud enough for her ear,
caused Kat ecu to turn around, and, with
a wild shriek of joy, she sprun forward, an»

‘ ing, and“ would have fallen to t e‘ groundi‘hfld

she not been caught in The endanegea‘s a‘rnis.’

“ Poor Lil of the Pale- es, how you have
wilted l"  the noble warrior, in s‘pit‘yiug
tone, as he lifted her easily as if shahad" "an
a feather, and carried her up to a mosay bank
beneath a spreading maple, and laid he: gently
down upon it. '

When her eyes unclosed. she saw that Tbs-r-
endanegea was sitting beside 'her, and a young
warrior, richly dressed, staudin leaning upon.
his rifle, near. And she closed or eyesagaia-

 

 

Thayendanegea, the Scourge.

25

 

 

to see if she were in a dream or not, for she
wished to hear his voice, if it was s renlit .

’ “Niscayuna, this is m sister," said That;-
endanegea, to the young ndian.

“ Has my brother no other sisters?” askid
Nisca una.

“ es, there was one; Ionl saw her once,
Ind had for otten her,” said hayendanegea,
iarelessly. hen he asked of his mother—
, ‘ Where is Iona ?”

“ Gone! _ Perhapsto the land of spirits!
You brought the pale-fare here, and she would
not stay," was the reply, given with no kind
look to poor Kathleen. ,_

“ Let hergol She was sfooll The Lil
of the Pale-faces was gentle as a doVe, and
would not tread upon a flower. Poor Lily,
how wilted you are i" said Thayendanegea,
gently, as he spoke the last words, and he took
up one of her thin hands in his.

Why with a quivering frame, and a face ex-
pressive of every passion but love, did N isoay-
una turn away and walk into the grove of co-
dar 2. Did he wish that he, too, had a sisterto

pit it

Kathleen this time heard the kind words of
Thaysndauegea; and, with a wild cry of glad-
ness, she raised her arms, threw them around
his braway neck, and, bursting into tours, hid
her face upon his bosom.

“ The rain will do the flower good,” he said,
tenderly, and he did not offer to remove her
from. her resting-place.

With a look of the bitterest anger, D 'agetto

rded the scene for a moment, and on she
as d. in the Indian ton , e, which she knew
Kathleen did not unders n'd :

“ A snake is upon your‘breast 1 Cast it off!”

“ It is a dove, and Iwm protect it!" replied
l‘ha endanegea, in the some ‘langua e.

“ will be the eagle to tear thy ove asun-
der," said the mother, bitterly.

“You may talk, you are my mother," said
The endanegea, quietly.

iscayuna now returned perfectly calm, and
Kathleen, having we t away her first burst of
feeli , modestly, and with. blushes upon her
soft c k, withdrew her white arms from the
War-Eagle‘s neck, and sat down on the mass
by his side. But she no longer looked sorrow-
ful. Her face was radiant with the beauty of

0 .

’ X‘l‘l'iscoynna, how do you like my sister 1—
as on are mynbrotber, she too is your sis-
ter ’—-ssked T endaaegea.

“ Ilike the ' y of the Pale-faces,” said Nisf
cayuna. “ She is more beautiful than the stars
at ni ht, or the flowers which follow the going
off 0 the snow l”

Kathleen looked up at Niscayuna as he stood
before her and said .this, but aslight, shudder

through her frame, and she opped her
Ehmnhe,,for his eyes seemed to pierce her, and

Q fill: an unknown fear of him—felt that he
'- on sunny. And she slung. closer to They-
011315510“ '  she felt, vgoveE aslshe wind; 0
°°.. tan, a at ar- e: “ rs
trust their), , m is

“When dosws. ,u on the war-path '
.my Wither 3" Is ed iscayuna, whose een
ey: hadnoticed that averted look, and even
t t slight shudder.

.“ Som—_we must not beidle while the eno-
mfihof mewrss mso has  said Tbs -
en smitten. when Ka lean clung
him an looked up implm'l ly in his face, he
read her thoughts in her [no , s, and said:

“Do not tremble, my dove, no harm .1191]
some to the Lily, and when thiwar is over,
there shallbe flowers for you to walk upon 1”

{‘1 do not fear for m 9915.,th for you!”
she said. softly. “ng I _ie.—it is buts d
falling into the sea, but y; u were to die?
e-Ir' the couldnot finis , the sentence ‘in.
tended, but burst into a flood of tears again“
and once more his bosom was s resting-place
forherheAd-,. _- i .

While The cndauegea yes epgaged in sooth-
ing this new urst o grief, with a tenderness
unusual to his, stern natfireha‘nd lie" indgeidvto

‘3.”ng D va 9 oau t e once 0 , is.
iiym, still gigs loo , called iim to follow
her. Whither they went, or what they said,
being. to me a mystery, must remain so to the
with” ' h tak 'th vow

" in!“ o in,o, 6518'"

I , gear fa f 85.8; fear no nger, only let
me “voyaudflfi', by your. si e!" murmured
 when .he became more com
. .“- Sl"“ 59": it cannot be. Tha endaneges
Gould 3“ 58‘“ IN: one eye and l hiseheart
“P03 P,“ But his eye looks upon vour ter-

. suddenly a warning cry was,

 

tor, and now he knows its cause. You shall
no longer be left alone with her who would not
have me wed a pale-face. I will lace a guard
of braves around you, who wit their lives
shall answer for the safety of the dove that
has built her nest in my heart! And when
again I come back, I will take the dove to my
bosom, and it shall rest there forever !"

And probabl for the first time in his life,
did the lips of hayendnncgea touch those of
woman, for now he bent his noble head down
and pressed his lips to hers. '

She wept no more. A lofty feeling seemed
to enter her heart. She said, and she looked up
proudly: “ I am the betrothed wife of Thaynn-
donegea; I will be strong, andfit myself to 6.: s
wow-Tim’s mfe . ’

“The Great S irit tells me that you will!
Be strong, and ha endanegeu will not be so
careless of a life which now belongs to the
dove of his bosom 1”

Once more he kissedher, and then they

arose and walked toward the Wigwam. They
had but just passed out of sight of the spot
where they had been seated, when Dyngettc
and Niscayuna stepped from a covert near
enough for them to iave seen and heard all
that had passed. They made no remarks, but
b different routes followed Thuyendaneges
slbwly to the wigwam.

_—

, CHAPTER XLIII.

Another wild forest scene, and once more
we are among old acquaintances. Upon the
banks of the swift Tie a, amid a forest of the
loftiest hemlocks, was ormed an encampment,
much such as we have described before, when
the ill-fated Herkimer met Thnyendanegea at
Unadilla. Here, as there, more than an hun-
dred cheerful fires blazed u in the gloom of
the night—here, as there, ve hundred red
warriors moved about them, roasted their beef
or their venison; but there was now a greater
show, for this wao Thayondanegea’s great war-
party returning from a sweep throu h a vast

ortion of the coun east and sout , where
he had gone almost a will, subsisting his men,
of course, upon the plunder of those whom he
deemed to be his foes; yet more merciful than
British or tories, slaying none but those whom
he met in arms against ini. Terrts, provisions,
stores of various kinds were plenty, and also
horses to carry them. And the was h.s chosen
band of braves, the veterans of the war. tho
“ old guard" of the Napoleon of the hm

The night had but just set in, but the camp
was fully formed, the sentian out, the war-
riors mostl at their suppersI and enjoying as
much co art in their way—and, I confess, in
my way, for the forest. is a home to me—as
an lordling would in his sumptuous alace.

the centre of the encampment, w ich was
laid out in true military. style—for Tha enda-
negea had lost nothing, but learned muc since
the, commencement of the war—stood a mar-
quit or tent, of the largest size.

The largest fire of al blazed before this tent,
and various persons were engaged here in

I roasting and boiling meats, etc.

, Before the tent, reclining u on a. bear-skin,
with ,his ready rifle as usual y his side, and
his tomahawk in his belt, his coronet of eagle

lnmes upon  head. was our hero, Tbs 'en-

Vanegea. And near him, as-he ever had 1:
since the battle of. the Oriskan , was Nisca-
yuna, looking 9 trifle older an firmer than
when we saw him last, but uite natural.

, When the reth of the c 'ef was prepared,
only himself and Niscayuna psi-took of it,

- though many of the sub-chiefs stood around.

Th‘ayendanegelt was as lordly in his style as
some of his more civilized re sl brothers. The
re finished, the War-Eng e 'n cast him-
ue f. u on  furry couch, afinfor a time
seeme lost in thought.
, “My buther is sad to-night,” said Nisca-
yum, “Where do his thoughts wander that
they are gloomy f"
. “To the lone dove that waits the coming 0!
her mate," said Thayendanegea.
Niscayunapaid no more, for that was a sub-
ject upon which he never talked. '
But the silence that now began to reign in
the forest did not remain long unbroken, for
. _ card from the
325111018 upon the trail they had that day
e. .
In an instant Thayendaneges was upon his

feet; and when the cries were repeated,‘one ..

washeardfrom his 1i

which brought over]
warrior to his feet.

t, another-cry, the war-

.lllln- Bnthillgo

 

riors gathered to his side, and all, almost as
quickl as thought, disappeared in the gloom
beyon the fires; so that if foes approached,
they could be seeen by the Molinwks, while the
latter were hidden in the darkness.

Not long in this canopy of gloom did Thay-
endnnegea have to remain in suspense as to
by whom or what the alarm was caused.

Ten of his sentinels came on to his msrque‘e.
and with them several British officers in uni-yi
form, and one ale-face, clad in a hunter‘s garb.

They halte at the tent and uttered a peou~
liar cry. Upon hearing this, Thayendanegea,
bidding his chiefs remain with their men in si-
lenoe in their places, with 011; Niscayuna by
his side, step ed boldly out the gloom and
walked back 0 his tent.

“ Thsyendanegea gives his friends rather a.
cold welcome this chilly ni ht." said the officer.-
who, by his uniform as wel as actions, seemed
to be chief of the roup.

“ When The 'en anegea knows Walter But-
ler to be his riend, he may give him awel~
come," said the chief, coldl . ‘

“ All who hate the foes cl Kin Geo andl
bear his commissions should be griends Be-
sides, when we last parted we were on one com
mission 1"

“ Yes, but not one of honor. I led: you in:
your company, and chose better for myself. 1‘
was led into danger by you, and may thank.
myself for getting out of it l"

“ Danger is a word which I havo heard that.
the Great War-Eagle loves I" said the wily
Butler, hoping to flatter the chief.

“ He loves honor better, but believes that.
Walter Butler knows but little of either!”
said the chief, bluntly. “ If you have busi-
ness . with me, let me know itr—if you have
not, on can depart l” .

“ hen to the point, Captain Thayendane-
gea, for I know that such is your commission
—here is a letter from my father, Colonel
John Butler, your superior! ’

“ Liar!” thundered Thayendaneges, “ I an
no superior on earth!"

“ I only mean in rank in the army of Kit
George I’ said Butler, trembling in spite
himself. .

“ Well, go on with your mission, but talk'
carefully With your ton lie, or on may lose it i"

“ Let the letter spea for i 'lf!" said But-
ler, not daring to risk more words with one
whom he knew it was useless to tryto cou-
ciliate.

Thayandanegea read it by the light of the”
fire, then threw himself down upon his bear-
skin, and pondered over its contents fora-long
time, leaving his visitors to stand or sit as
they thought dproper. At last he rose, gave a
clear cry, an in an instant, as if by' magic,
his warriors came in from the gloom, and
ranged themselves in such mili order be-
fore his tent, their front at a distance of twea-
ty; paces, as elicited remarks of surprise from
t ose who accompanied Butler.

“ Why do you want to go to Cherry Val-
ley f” asked the chief abruptly of Butler.

“ I want to n lit the enemies of King
George 1" said Bu er. “ There are two hun-
dred and fifty continental troops there, with
plea of arms and ammunition l’ ,

“ ow man men have you P”

“ Two bun red, all told 1”

“You had better go 110le I can take half
my men and whip them 1”

“These are my father's orders I” skid But-
ler, pleading the an] excuse he dared to offer
Tha endanegea; al oughhis  reason was
his esire to revenge his recent cs ture, sen.
fence, and the imprisonment at Al y; from
which he had escaped. , V

“ Your tories are Won‘t than 
they will brtcher woman and chi dl‘dn.
shes u itwmymmwhom 1 «audio
control "

“ We will light only the soldiers; when they
are whipped we'll collect the-poll, and do-

«in '
“ Walter Butler, you are a bad  bud

,aarrysforlted tongue. You. heart is made

of mudl But when [took my c‘oinmis’siou, If
"0" to fight for Kin Geo d~ our

mgr, who is no better 1: ' you are',ho di‘ s

, higher commission than I do. I would rather

“with the devil than goo, for he‘ is the best ‘
have spoken l"
Thayendsneges uttered these we ‘ with a
careless scorn, which no pen coal describe.
no pencil any delineate.
filly troops 's‘retllilsyoud ymiu-% 
ne,restingu n eirarms a ham
and cold I" courtinued Butler. V ‘

The New York Library.

 

26

 

 

 

'l'hayendaneges made no reply, but gave an
order to his chiefs, and his own men instantly
dispersed to their different cam fires, to see
the re se from which they ha been aroused,
while ha endanegcs cast himself down upon
his bear-slim, and lightin his pipe, went to
smoking. as if no one live but himself. '

“ If you have no respect for me, ou might
have for the entlemen with me P said But—
ler, now pique be ond forbearance.

“I know you, alter Butler, and I Judge
strangers by the company they keep 1' said
Thsyendanegea. “If your men are in the
sold and dark, you had better go and pitch a
camp for them, if you know how—if ou
ion’t, I’ll lend on a savage to show you 2'

Butler lnlew his man too well to trifle with
him further, and he departed with his mule
—or all but one, and he wore no uniform.

He remained standin a moment in the
shade of the tent, until utler and his (party
were out of hearing, and then steppe for-
ward.

“ Crest Mister Var-Eagle, blease for let

r Hon Yost live mit you and our mens—
mn't live mit such tam schoun rels as Cap-
tain Putler—I hunt mit you when
poy; blease let me live mit youl
in 'vidual.

“ Yes; you are a rascal, but too ood for
his company. There is meat, est. ere is
a blanket, take it and sleep l" was the brief,
but to the poor Dutchman most satisfactory

on was a
said this

re 1 .

g'ii’ayendanegea now spoke a word to Nis-
cayuna, who brou ht him a blanket, which he
wrapped around is form, and scoraing the
shelter of a tent, raised more for form than
necessity, in such weather, lay down to sleep.

Niscayuna, wrap ing a blanket around him-
self, sat down by is chieftain and brother’s
head, and there sat quictl watching ly him,
until, at last, his e es came weary, and
with his rifle beneat his head, he went also
to sleep.

Hon Yost, after eating as if he had fasted
for a week, picked a blanket from a pile. to
which the chic: had pointed, and humans
suit.

CHAPTER XLW.

One ' ht more, and another camp. Who
would alien it? the united forces of Butler
and Thayendanegea, of which, by his British
commission, the former is in command, are
eneamped upon a lofty hill, evergreen covered,
Within one mile of the village and fort which
they intend to attack. And this, although
the colonel in command, Alden, has been in
formed of the intended attack. But, like
Braddock in the French war, and still later,
m poor friend Dado, in the Florida war. he
he d Indian cunning as well as con e at too
light a weight, and was sunk by it in conse-
quence,

And here, too, guided b the knowledge and
skill of Thsyendsne as, t ey had been led, in
broad daylight; so t'before they laid down
in their blankets for the night—as they did
without fires—they could count the soldiers in
the garrison, see every house in the village,
and even notice every spot where a sentinel
was posted. . _ . _

That night, before he made dis ositions in

rd to his own movements in t e morning
(and histor roies it), Thayendauegea, much
as he hatcdprutler, held an interview with him
in regard to the sparing of families in the
lace,—-tellin him that friends of General
Ohnsou and his own father dwelt there.

But I cannot pause. A painful task is be-
fore me; and the sooner it is over, the better.

Having marked the position of every senti-
nel the night before—leavin Butler to choose
his own point of attack— ‘hayeadanegea, at
01' before d8". While snow-flakes were falling
thick and fss} in the air, moved down the liiil
with his men. Butler, with his “ Rangers "—
alias murderous twin—takin their route.

nut before they reached the village, a set-
tler, going in on horseback, crossed their path.
He was fired upon; but, in the darkness and
mist of the mornin , he escaped. The alarm
was given—guns .red; an all was now ex-
citement and confusion. Butler and his Ran-
gers, without even approaching the garrison,
sprung to a work of general desolation and
carnage. The endaneges’s heart. savage (Y) as
it was, thrill with horror when he found how
he had- been betrayed by the fiend Butler.
()ne of his chiefs he sent to protect the vener.
able minister of the place—others he sent

 

elsewhere; but he hastened to one family, of
which he had spoken particularly to the hated
tory. He was too late when he arrived at the
house of Judge Wells: the family were slainl
He hurried in pursuit of Butler, who, mad
with excitement, sword in hand, was rushing
from house to house, killing and ordering to
kill.

He found him in the act of causing a woman
and child to be slain in bed.

“ Back, murdering dog, or you die i“ cried Tha -
cndanegzea. “ The child nor woman are enemies o
the king! Go chuck our devils—they are not mm."

’l‘hur rebuked, But or turned away—not in shame,
for he had none; and Thaycndnnegea went on, to
save.

From the moment the garrison was alarmed and
the fart secured, he knew how useless it was to try
its strength without artillery. His wish was im-
possible; and now, sickened and disgusted, he re-
gretted that even the oath by which he held his
commission in a cause which he had been reared to
believe right, had been kept.

Morn o horr‘r ! let not thy sun rise higher to my
view; for ca! it s red—red with blood!

Reader, 0 to im artlal history for a recital of the
horrors of oveinger 10th, 1778, in Cherry Valley—
where or the name of Burns is used to frlgh en
wicke children into silence!

 

HAPTER XLV.

Still another cam dire, and one more melancholy
than any yet; it is a a half-do ‘s march from Cherry
Valley, toward Niagara, wh ther 'l'hnyendnnegea,
with some important prisoners—needed to effect
exchanges—is bound. Melancholy, because those
poor risoners have been suddenly wrenched from
their esolated homes; some have left living relao
tlves behind: others have left those whom they best
loved on earth, dead and stark u on the ground.

The camp is in a beautiful an romantic spot—it
is in a dense ravine, where a broad glade of autumn-
drled grass spreads out a soft carpet for the foot.
Through its center winds a rippling stream, on lis
way to the Susquehanna. Upon eit er hand. seem-
ineg all around, riss mountains, crowned with
evergreen so steep that they almost seem to topple
over the p aln below

Here in this dell, hitherto so lens and still. where
:few human fact have ever ‘trod, but where the red
deer has as olced to feed and play rest all of They-
endauegea s band—for lie-has not lost a man—and
their rlsoncrs.

But or, with his torz Rangers, and a few mercen-
ary Indians, with w om hayendanegea‘s band
'have no connection, have taken another route.

Bold in his conscious strength and fearless na-
ture, the War-Ea le has caused his camp-fires to be
lighted as usual, 'or he know! that no force behind
will be strong enough to follow him: and if they
did, he would almost or quite, re oice at the chance
of a fair light—so sickened and lsgustsd was he at
the hatchery of the morning, so dlssouant with his
own character.

It was after all the camp was still and such of the
' rismiers as would eat had been ed, that 'l‘haven-
‘ snegieii went to his own camp-lire, where Hon
Yost ny sleepln , and lecayuna sat on watch.

He iipproache the fire. cast himself down on his
blanket, and for a time remained in thoucht—sad
thought, for more than once a sigh rose from his
breast. At last he said:

“ lecsyuna, from the day we fought at Orlskany
until now, you have clung to me as the vine clings
to the oak. You are my brother. There is a stone
in my heart io-nl ht, and I can not cast it out.
There is a cloud efore in syes- it is very (l Irk,
but in its center I see the L 1% of the Pals-faces. the
White Dovs of my bosom. he path of in feet is
to N mm a, but my heart wants to walk to a wig-
wsin on the Mohawk!"

lecayiina listened in silence; he did not even
raisie his eyes from the ground, upon which he was
gas ng. l

“I must send a messen or to the White Dovs—
wll! my brother :0 to her! continued the chief.

The frame of Niscnyuna shock as shakes the as-
pen leaf. when the winds are breathing quickly;

ut he made no reply.

“The White Dove is in a not! She calls upon
the .vla to save her!" continued Thaysndau sa.
And h I strong frame shook with an agltat on
which it had never known bofors.

"My brother only dreams a bad drsaml’ said
Niscayuns. at last, in a low and tremulous voles.
Bntyei he did not raise his eyes from the ground.

“ t is no dream, for I can not sleep," said Thsy-
eudauegca “ Her low volcs moans in my car all
the time—lbs Dove calls for her Eagls, and says:
‘ Come to me, or I perish.‘ "

“ My brother's ears are filled with the sounds he
heard this morning—of ths doves which were then
cruelly sent to the splritlsndl” continued leca-

. no.

ya“ No—my heart bled for them: there is onlyolu
voice now in my heart—it is the voice of the

of the Pale-faces—of the Dovs of m bosom l“

" Let my brother, the Great War-hiya le, be a ma
and not w. :ik. like a woman. Let h in sleep, an
rest will drive away bad thoughts I“

“I will listen to the words of In brother—I wlll
try .I“ said Thsyendaneges. And a draw hls blan-
klet around him, and covering his head, tried to
s cc .

Aiid lecayumi, apps whose face an hundred
ihoughts seemed to painting themselves, as if
below. in his heart. many passions were at war,
looked at the form of the reclining warrior; but he
did not try to sleep. And at times low murmurs
would rise to his ps—lhs thoughts of his heart
tryan to get out from their prison.

“Dyr‘i’gelto has kept her p edgel” hs murmured.
"The nr-Eagle never shall be wed to a cursed
pale-face!"

“Who II okef" cried 'l‘haycndansgsa; and he
lialf'ai-ose mm the ground. ' -

‘~ The wind was groaning amon the caverns of

the hills I“ said Niscsyuna. {‘Al also is still, but

 

the singing of the water as it goes .to dance with
its sisters in the Crooked River .“ "

“ can not sleep—the voice that is in my heart is
too load 1"

He rose, and for a long time walked to and fro
before the fire, his agitation not decreasing in all
this time, but rather becoming more violent. A!
last he addressed leoayuna once more:

“ Will in brother be my messcugpr to the White
Dove ? I are not trust another. y brother loves
me. He has proved his lovs. I have proved lt as
the stron man gov” the bow! Will my brother
go to thea’hlte ove f" i

“ Will my brother let his memor go back to the
night after the fight at Oriskany “ asked Nissa-
yuna.

“I close in eyes and it dies back swiitly," rc‘
plied Tha en snegsa.

“ Then t sees the hour when the great War-Ea ls
bade lecayuna call him brother before all the a-
tlons,“ continued Niscayuna.

“ It looks upon that hour, and the eye is not dim
which sees it, ’ said Thaycndaneges.

“ Has that memory an ear. as well as an eye 9"
asked lecayuns.

“ Only one year; so that which goes in at the ass
has no other to flee out of."

“ 'l‘hcn lt hears Thaysndanegea wear b the
Great Spirit that lecayuna shall never be riven
from his side I" cried the oung warrior, and a look
of triumph sat upon his sutures.

“It bears the oath, and Thayendancgca will not
break it!" said the warrior; but there was a deep
sadness in his tons.

He spoke no more; but sat all the n! ht long b
the fire, evidently revolvin some plan n his min .
for the great veins in his ample were falling and
rising, as if the thoughts were coming and going
from the heart to the brain.

It was morning. The war-party was afoot while
yet the glr‘sy dawn hun upon the path of departing
night. he morning ood was cooked and eaten
the prisoners re ared for the day's Journey; and
all was ready or epariure.

Then Thayendsnegea called his sub-chiefs to him,
and upon a piece of white bark be marked out for
them their course, and the distance they must make

r The name Susgwharma, in the Indian langus
means the Green River. 8"
upon each day’s journey. This don hs told them
to g: on and he won d overtake t em upon the
rot:l 6. ‘13s had another work to do, and must go
an o .

The band, with its sorrowiug train, moved on,
and but three remained—Thaysndanegss, Niscsy-

can and Hon Yost.

“ Why do you not with than!" asked Tha cu-
dane ea, sternly, of on Yost, and he points to
the epartlng party. i

“I have had a tram and must a mit der Var-
Ragle to der Mohawksl” said Hon osi, uletly. ,

‘ The Great M has spoken—who e as could
have told Mm w are Thsysndansgga was goln i"
muttered the chief to h mself. hen hs adhcd
aloud, “ You shall go! Hastcn to cook food. WeI
sleep not—pause not—till we get to the Mohawk !"

Nircsyuua said nothing; but if the chleftaln‘s
heart had seemed very heav the night before, Ms
heart seemed ten times has or now.

On the contrary, new life seemed to have coma
back to the spirit of Thayendsnegsa from the mo—
ment that ho had formed his determination

CHAPTER XLVL

Before the new and sls nt wigwam which ’l'hayh
sndaus as had caused to built for Kathleen, be-
fore he sat went upon the war-path, were athsrsd
the Indians whom he had left to guard or with
their livss. II on their faces both grief and sur-

rlss were vlsi ls; for their young queen, as th

ad learned to regard her. was nowhsrs to be foun .
She had won u their respect and love by dross-
ing as the In an maidens dressed; and her new
hopes had so improved her looks, that in her new
garb she looked wondroust beautiful. and seemed
more to thsm like an an 1 from the spirit-land
than a being of mortal mo d. Her syo cxprsssin
but a wish. it was accomplished. The choices
Ems from the forss the finest fish m the waters.

s swestcst birds I at bout the air with fsa
pinion—all were laid before her. She wished to
make a gala suit of clothing for Ths sndsn e to
show him on his return that she can do “finals:
maidens did. They taught her how, and brought
her the materials ' for Dyagctto who remained
spltcfully in her old Wigwam, would show her noth-

in .

into and sorrow-stricken, tbs stood before tbs
wigwam ; for this was the scco ds since she had
been missed, and far and wide but! t ey sought for
her, and found no at . When they had asked
ay‘agstto about her, s s laughed scoruihlly, and

“ I suppose you slept upon your guard and aha
stole swa from on. The ls-fsc '
oufi,  0 not like ta: rsdfien !" e. In "each".
u sscwalrors cw wshsl -
dansges, and how she trusted in mlfgygs
never would move from the wlgwam «coat-whoa
:

the went to her. Some su sstsd abs
hanssn lift up to tbs s int-land“; but all shook -
their heads and murmur : -

“ What will TM sndaneosa I"

While thus stand ng. a distan‘taznd a cheerful cry
was heard. Oh, how well they knew that about!
It was the “ return call ” of Thayendansgsa.

The stood still, locked one at the other, and
tremb ed. And Dysgstto, too, cams now for all.
had heard the far-off cry, and with a singular mils
upon her lacs, shs cams to welcome her son to his

wl .

n he cams boundin as ll t as a back,
one“  aw” v m- a

a ar 0

earth beneath h a feet. In a Kimmiflc tbs
wlzwam door, bsslds which hung the be'autiihl
dress which the had made for him.‘ an rested
upon it a pleased second—he know it 

 

 

y toa
all this; but v? on

Thayendanegea, the Scourge.

27

 

 

—then supposing that maiden modesty kept her
within, he entered the Wigwam at as Hon
Yost and Niscayuna amved, th almost
breathless, for it were a fast runner who could
lzeep up With the love-pace of the War-Eagle as

he neared the nest where helhad left his flower. -

Dy tto and Niscayuna exchanged one look
4! into igenoe, and then seemed no more to see
nr know each other.

In a moment, Thayendanegea rea
wonder upon his face, but as yet no 0 er ex-
N‘BSSXOIL

.“ Where is my White Dove? Where is the
luly of in heart? Does she hide from Thayen-
-lanegea, hat she ma tease him?”

No repl was in e but b looks. He saw
'hat somet 'ng was wrong, an his face changed
like the sun w en a cloud sweeps across it.

“ Where is the Lily?” he thundered.

The warriors trembl ,but nogne of them
dared be the first to But agetto, in a
sarcastic tone, said:

“A bird told me that while your warrio

lept, "she stole away to find a pale-fa
.over.

” Woman, you lie! The bird that threatened
to tear m dove to pieces is the only bird you
know! vyhere is my dove? Speak!” thundered
Tha endane a; and with every vein swelling
ns it woul burst, his form distending as if he
was about to spring upon her, he awaited her
answer.

“Ask themgtyou left her with them!” she
said, and poin to the guard.

For an instant, mastering his passion with a
mighty eflort, the chief turned to them, and
asked an explanation of the manner of her dis-
ap rance.

e one whom he had placed as captain over
all the rest now told Thayendanegea all about
it: how 3;? had loved and reverenced her—
how she waitedthe return 0 the War-Eagle
and pointed to her work to s ow what had
been her thoughts and emplo ment in his ab-
sence. He then said that on e night before,
she had ne sin g into her Wigwam, as was
her won that e guard was placed as usual;
but a strange drowsiness came over them—they
slept without the power to avoid it, and when
inorninrig came, she was gone.

nce, Thayendanegea heard
the warrior had finished it
could be seen that the most fearful storm of his
terrible nature was ri ' ,and woe to the one
on whom its lightnings to l .
_But now Hon Yost, whose e es, from the be-
;rnming, had been wandering om Dyagetto to
Niscayuna, touched Thayendanegea upon the

arm and said:

“ One ird tells me someidn too Mister Var-
lia 1e. me mit me. Hon 0st imam dat he
lln s your Lily!”

Thayendanegea looked at Hon Yost a moment,

08311 Would read him through; then said:
0

Hon Ygst led the we. , at once, to a path
which wound along a re 6 down to the small
level n the bank of the foaming river. He
was to owed closel by Thayendanegea; next
by the warriors: last of all came Dyagetto
and Nisca na. _

Withou a moment’s hesitation or faltering,
Hon Yost led the waytothe same ravine where,
in times long back, we traced the wicked Aro-
.'thyadeck:; ind pgused not 1131M hebrleubhgghttl:
ve w ere, or ears eno e
I £33m. y aside the small stone in

. the mouth of the cave, e said:

“Call to your pird, Var-Eagle. Idinksyou
find her here I” .

“ In this case!” asked 

He needed no other call. voice had been
heard, for a clear, sweet cry came up from the
glwflgeyendalow: TEAYENDAKIGIM “mm

M .
 was...“ .
was 8011

With a cry of mixed anger and delight, They-
vndsnsgea would have tried to force his way
throu h the narrow aperture; but Hon Yost
ism-fined him and only said: ,

“ Come mit inc—come mit me, Var-Eagle l'

He then leaped around the anglaenof the rock
.‘oaspot where onlytwo could d. Froma
l where no one would see
it but one who ew it was there, he drew a
: teat level;i of 1zHe 13.3mm tgkghindigr
in e era as w a an -
mense With butp very little effort, it
vielded to the leverage- and , showed
that it was but a door to the cavern, but so con-
 that it could not be opened from the

de.

“ Call our pird, Var-Eagle,” said Hon Yost,
proudly :yfor he had now won a victory to him
greater than that at Fort Schuyler.

No need, even now had Thayendanege: to
call her; for Kathleen seen the had
imagined his form; and now, with a delirious
shrl of pleasure—of joy unutterable b words
—shesprungfmm thegloom into has on tched

anus.

And then the warrior, to whom death was but
a ymate—whose heart was supposed to be
ha er, a thousand times, than the flint in his
gun—knelt down, and while he kissed her again

and again, wept like a ve child—wept and
sobbed until she tried to is tears With her
many kisses and almost 0 dineg asked if he
was not g1 to see her.

“ Oh, so glad—so glad—my heart will break
out from my breast l—it is too big l—let the
water run from it!” he said, in tones so low and
soft you could not have believad that they came
from a warrior’s tongue.

In a little while he was more calm and hold-
ing her in his arms, followed Hon Yost, who—
WIth a delicacy which men accredited of some
might not have exhibited—had gone on, and

mitted that noble burst of feeling in a brave

cart to $3: unwitnessed.

When ayeudanegea a tired to his delight—
ed warriors with their love young queen in his
arms, the rent the air with their shouts of y,
and led t e way out to the river bank, w are
the glad sun was shining—making the river and
the wild foamin cataract look like a mixed
is “as” s   ... .. m.

yag . an scayuna -
but, in the neral 1kg, no one seemed aphotice'
or think 0 that. nce u n the firm shore,
Thayendanegea released 3 precious burden
from his shuns, and putting her doWn, stood and
looked at er, in her beautiful forest garb and
in the renewed love iness which love mm
had given her, wit the same intense -
ation which some soul enwra pod artist he-
stows upon a work just flnis ed—which, for
him, has been the toil, the study, the sole idea
for years upon years.

And then, all headless of the filigesenoe of his
warriors, he caught her up to ' breast and
kissed her again and again until, in a whisper,
she reminded him that they were not alone,
while she blushed a treble beaut at the thou ht.

“ True, my own onel” he sai , tly. on,
turning to his warriors, he bade t em go up to
the Wigwam and prepare a feast, while he and
the White Dove wal ed by the water-side and

talked.

All obedient and now doubly swift for the
happiness which they felt, they hurried to do
so, while Thayendane ea, as he became more
calm, clasping the ban of his loved Kathleen,
walked up along the brink of the foaming tor-
rent, and son h to so still his emotions that he
could ask her ow she was placed in the cave,
for he feared his own anger, and wished to mas-
toid: whlifle he 00:111.“ bov th taraot, that

ac n a a e e ca
where flrstghem landed with her, he sat down
upon a log close by the fringe of bushes at the
foot of the cliff, and directly beneath that lofty
look-out, where she had stood so many patient
gram watching for him, and placed her by his

e.

“M son
“2” gig!” ‘ heard. from the crest of
w c was
the mm“ bu oh God of Heaven!
itwasalltoolate to can; or,” Thayendane-
started at the sound, his mother, leapm
fit: a tigress from the covert close behm ,
sprung u n poor Kathleen, seized her in her
arms, ugtasingle bound was buried in the
rushing waters! For a moment glued,
Thayendanegea stood, and then would ave
lea after those who were now buried far
am d the rocksbelow,hadnot Niscaynnacau ht
and held him back, or triedto do so, for e
chief struggled terribly";d In the struggle he
would have succeeded, not some of war-

bove whohadu thewarning
flout“)de them just as both were on the

cry, reach
bri and drew them back. -
waAti‘i‘d’lnownke on rent from the bosom
of Niscagvumz,h llosed fact that a m
stood be are em ‘
my“ faint from exertion and ex-
cigement, one moment, and uttered the

bosom threw herself

athisieet; forinhislooks shereadthathehsd
in a mom divined h

and bar mfiieo for putting on male attire, an
follo ng m.

'th olded arms he stood and grew calm,
femfll calm: forthere is aoalm determin-
ate w was.“ inmates a

cs. 11 an n
in on“ Mrs?” too full of sus-
penge— was

At last she rose and lookedat min—oh] so
heart-brokenlyl -

‘ggseekmfkler you havetorn frommybosoml”
heOne look at him—one hsa ‘ sigh which told
thather euthadburst—an she ed! The
darkwa is closed overher, the in waters
received her and her sph'itfledafterthosewhich I
had gone before! ‘ ,

 

 

I

The Mohawk braves trembled and breathed
quick breaths' but Thayendanegea, without I
quiver on his lip, like a moving statue of bronze,
and sai , in a tone hoarse and deep, but
“ Bios ro ru wmrusi"

m “D.

 

 

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i.—DEADWOOD DICK, m Pumas or m Rose,
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By Edward L. Wheeler.

K-YELLOWBTONE JACK; on. Ten Turns or
run Escnsmn Gsomm. A tale of the “ Spirit
on " of the Upper Yellowstone. By Jo-

sep E. Badger, Jr.

8,—KANSAS KING; on THE Run Runners). By
Wm. r. Cody (Buduo am.)

t—VAGABOND JOE, m Yours Wasnnme Jaw;
on. Pram-mo son A Lmscr. By Oil Ooomes.
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No. a—mn DARE-DEVIIr or, Tan WINGID
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Saar or m Wns'r. B Bu Sam, ,
Sam 5. Hall). y 

No. L—TH‘E KIDNAPPER; or, 'l‘nn Gnu-i
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.s.- , V~~.’V:‘ ' '

 

 

 

BEADLE’S

LIBRARY.

 

 

 

32 Large Throw-Column Pages.

LA Hard Crowd; on GENTLEMAN
KAM‘H SIHTEN. By Philip S. Warne.

2. The Dare-Devil: on, THE WINGED
WITCH OF THE SEA. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahnm.

3. Kit Carson, Jr" THE CRACK SHOT or
THE ‘VEST. By Brickskin Sam.

4. The Kidnapper: OR. THE GREAT
SHANGHAI or T'IE NONTIIWEHT. By Philip S. Warne.

5. The Fire-Piends: UR, HERCULES, THE
HUNCHIIACK. By A. P. Morris.

8. Wildcat Bob. THE Boss BRUINER ;
OR, THE BounER BumnHOUNm. By Edward L. Whoe-
ier, author of “ Deadwood Dick.“ “ Double Daggers."

7. Death-Notch, THE DESTROYER; ON,
THE SPIRIT LAKE AVENGERS. By 011 Coomes.

8. The Headless Horseman. A strange
story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.

IO. Vidocq. THE FRENCH POLICE SPY.
Written by himself.

1 1. Midshipman Easy.

rynt.

By Capt. Mar-

12. The Death-Shot: 0R, TRACKEI) To ‘

DEATH. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

13. Pathawag: OR, NICK WHIEELEs, THE
OLD TRArrER or THE
inson.

14. The. endanegea, THE SCOURGE :
on. THE WAR- .AGLE or THE MOHwas. By Ned Bunt-
ine, author of “The White Wizard.“

15. The Tiger-Slayer;
HEAn To THE RESCUE. By Gustave Aimnrd.

16. TheWhite Wizard; on, THE GREAT

PROPHET or THE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline.

17. Nightshade, THE ROBEEH PRINCE
or HOUNsmw HEATH. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

18. The Sea Bandit; OR, THE QUEEN
OF THE INLE. By Ned Buntline.

19. Red Cedar, THE PRAIRIE OUTLAW. ‘

By Gustave Aimard.

20. The Bandit at Bay; on, THE Pl-

mm or THE PHAIRIEs. By Gustave Aimard.

21. The Trapper’s Dau hter: OR,
THE OUTLAw's FATE. By Gustave A mard.

22. Whitelaw: on, NATer or THE LAKE ‘

SHORE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
23. The Red Warrior:

Dsmrmn‘s CONANCHE LOVER. By Ned Buntiine.

24. Prairie Flower.
mard, author of “melaslayer'n em.

25. The Gold-Guide; on, STEEL ARM, ‘

THE REGULATOR. By Francis Johnson.

26. The Death-Trash:

LAws or THE MOUNTAIN. By Francis Johnson.

27. The grower-Detective; on THE
GINLs or NEW ORK. By Albert W. Aiken.

as. Three-PingeI-ed Jack. Tm. Rom .

AGENT or THE ROCKIES; on, THE BOY MINER or HA”
LUCH. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

29. T
THE CASHIER'B CRIME. By Philip S. Warne

30. Gospel George: or. FIENY FRED, '

.':lH.' OlrrLAw. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

31. The New York ‘Sharp‘:' on, T... i

FLAsI-I OE LIGHTNINO. By'Albert W. Aiken.

32. B’hoys of Yale; OR, THE SCRAPES
orA HARD SET or Commune. By John D. Vose.

ORTHWEsT. By Dr. J. B. Rob- 
‘ THE KANAWHA. By Albert W. Aiken.

OR, EAGLE- ‘

OR, STELLA j

By Gustave Ai- I

on, THE OUT- ., or THE
E'B

3 Hon. Wm.
iger Dick. THE FARO KING; or,

 

 

 

i 88. Velvet Hand; on, THE IRON GRIP or
INJUN DICK. By Albert W. Aiken.

I 39. The Russian Sp : OR. THE BROTH-
Ens or THE STARRY Caoss. By

40. The Lo Haired ‘ Pards:' on.
. THE TARTARs or THE INs. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

41. Gold Dan: on, THE WHITE SAVAGE
on THE GREAT SALT LAKE. By Albert W. Aiken.

42. The California Detective: on, i

THE WITCHEs or NEW You. By Albert W. Aiken.

43. Dakota Dan, THE RECKLESS RANGER;
or, THE BEE-HUNTERH’ ExcvRsIoN. By Oil Coomes.

44. Old Dan Rackbaek. THE GREAT
EXTAEHINATOR; or, THE TmANGLE‘s LAs'r TRAIL
By 011 Coomes.

45. Old Bull’s Eye, THE LIGHTNING
SHOT on THE PLAINs. By Joseph E. Badger. JR.

48. Bowie-Knife Ben. THE LITTLE

HUNTER or THE Now-qu. By Oil Coomes.

47. Pacific Pete, THE PRINCE or THE
REVOLVER. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

48. Idaho Tom. THE YOUNG OUTLAW
or SILVERLAND. By Oil Coomes.

49. The Wolf Demon: or, THE QUEEN or

HIT CARBON. JE—No. 3.

50. Jack Rabbit, THE PRAIRIE SPORT;
CHIILDRHN or THE LLANo MACADO. By Jos.
er. r,

51. Red Rob, THE BOY ROAD-AGENT.
By Oll Coomes.

52. Death Trailer, THE CHIEF or
Scanrs' or Life and Love in a Frontier Fort. By
. Cody. (Buffalo Bill.)

53. Silver Sam; or, THE MYsTEnY or
Deadwoon Cm. By Col. Dene Sara.

54. Always On Hand; or. THE SPORTIVE
Seas: or THE E HILLs. Philip S. Warne‘
author of ‘fA Har Crowd.“ “Pa at Leather Joe.‘

55. The Scalp Hunters. A ROMANCE on
THE PLAINS. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

58. The Indian mm ‘3 or, THE
MAD MAN or m PLAINS. By 1 n W. Aiken

57. The Silent Hunter; or, THE ScowL

' HALL MYsTEInI. By Percy B. St. John.

rederick Whittaker. ; W

 

Each Number Complete. Price 10 cu.

i 62. Loyal Heart; or, THE human or
AlunNsAs. By Gustave Aimard.

83. The Winged Whale. By Alberv
. Aiken.

: 84. Double-Si§ht. the Death Shot.
‘ By Joseph E. Badger. r.

85. The Red Rajah; or, THE SCOURGH
or THE lens. By Captain Frederick Whittaker.

66. The S ter Barque. A TALE
or THE PACIEIC. y Captain Mayne Reid.

87. The Boy Jockey; or, HONEsTY
vansvs CROOHEpans. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

88. The Fightingle per: or, KIT
CAnsoN To THE REsch. By Cap . J. F. C. Adams.

69. The Irish ca 3 A TALE or
FONTENOY. By Captain erick Whittaker.

70. Hydrabad, THE STRAHGLER; or,

AerHE, THE CHILD or THE CORD. By Dr. J. H.
Robinson.

71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, THE MAN
SHARK or THE MIssIssIrrI. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

72. The Phantom Hand. A STORY or
Nsw You HEARTHs AND Hons. By Albert W.

Aiken.
73. The Knight ofthe Red Cross:

or, THE MAGICIAN or GRANADA. A Tel f -
hambrs. By Dr. J. H. Robinson a o the A!

74. Captain ofthe Rides. A ROMANCE
or THE MEXICAN VALLEY. By Captain Mayne Reid.

75. Gentleman George. on PARLoR,
PRIsON. STAGE ANn STREET. By Albert W. Aiken.

78. The Queen’s Musketeer’, or,
THIsnE, THE PRINCEss PALIIIsT. By George Albany.

77. The Fresh of ‘Prisco. or, THE
HEIHEss or BUENAVHNTIIRA. By Albert W. Aiken.

78. The Mysterious Spy: or, GOLDEN
gal-man. THE BuocANEER‘s DAIJGHTER. By A. M.
nger.

79. Joe Phenix, THE POLICE SPY. By
Albert W. Aiken.

80. A Man of Nerve: or. CALIBAN,
THE DWARr. By Philip 8. Warne.

81. The Human Tiger; or, A HEART
or FIRE. By Albert W. Aiken.

82. I Wrist thé SW  .
By Col. T133... H. Mons'tery. o

83. Gold Bullet Sports or,- m KNIGHTS
or m OVERLAND. By Buflalo Bill.

84. Hunted Down; or, THE WHITE
WITCH. By AlbertW. Aiken.

85. The Cretan Rover: or, ZULEIHAH,
THE Bum-mm. By 00L Prentice Ingrsbam.

88. The Big Hunter: or, THE QUEEN
ON THE Woons. By‘the author of “ Silent Hunter."

87. The SCarlet Ca tall; or, THE
PRIBONER or THE TOWER By L Bella Sara.
688.3% GFeo ' THE arm or THE

man: 0 . I Bnmnns.
E. Badge; J I? m w By Jmph

89. The Pirate, Prince; 0r, PRETTY
NELLY. Tm: QUEEN or THE ISLE. By 001. Prentiss
Ingraham.
90. Wild Will, THE MAD BANCHERO;
or. THE Trauma TnAN. By-Bnckskin Sam.

91. The Winning] Oar: or, THE INN-
xmm’s DAUGHTER. By bert W. Aiken.

V Ready April 7th.
92. Bnflhlo Bill. THE Bucxsm KING;

or THE AHAzoN or THE Wm. . ‘
field Burr. Ready Apr“ 21“ 3? Major Danger

i

33. Overland Hit. By Albert w.?
Aiken. ‘
i

34. Rocky Mountain Rob. BY Al- 58. Silver Knife: or, WchLn-EE, THE

bert W. Aiken. } Roexv MOUNTAIN RANGER. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

. , 59. The Min I‘er Texas or THE
w_8A5ike§entuck the sport“ By Albert i OUTLAW or ARKANSAS. By Albert W. Ailren. ’

36. Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. _ 80. Wide Awake: or, THE harm or

THE BLACK Firms. By Frank Dumont.
37. Hm. the Hanan.th 0., mi 61. Ca tain seawaiz m Pmum.
Swonmunm or THE SANTEE. By Dr. . Ii. Robinson.

HyNedBunune.

93. Captain Bick Talboté KING or
THE Rom; or, In: — .
Albert W. Aiken. Read; $835.13? or man By

A new ism every two weeka.

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