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 woman after him, their guilty fears lending speed to their feet. The lone figure, which superstition and guilt had invested with such power and might, was left crouching on the broad, flat stone which had once been at the entrance to the wigwam. Alas, how weak and powerless this lonely being felt himself to be! Not one of his father's race in all the bordering wilderness, to lend him a helping hand in the task before him,—the task of searching that pile of ruins for the blackened bodies which he supposed lay buried there, and consigning them to a safe resting-place. He was pondering in his mind whether he should commence the work alone, or apply to the Yankee colony, six miles distant, for aid. He still had a shrinking from the disclosures which might follow the latter course; and he had an overpowering dread of taking Nattie's little, stiffened, lifeless form from the ruins, and, alone, bearing it to its burial. This stern conflict of feeling kept him alternately walking and crouching on the