“Then I will not,” said Miskwa, “but thou art good enough for Pontiac, did he now live.” The captive made no reply, being willing that Miskwa should continue to think as she did, namely, that her annunciation that the white and the red could never unite, arose from a belief on her part that by a red warrior she would never be wooed; and with a hope of finding out who it was that had inquired after her, for undefined apprehensions began to flit across her mind, she said, “Miskwa, do tell who seeks me?” “I know not his name, nor why he comes,” said Miskwa. “He says he comes to see thee. It is not in anger. I will tell thee how I saw him?” “Do,” said the maiden. “When I left thee,” said Miskwa, “I hastened on after the deer I shot, and having found it, stooped down to bleed it. A moment passed while I was preparing. I heard a voice. It fell soft on my ears as the running of waters, and turning, I beheld a warrior near me with youth and joy beaming in his countenance. But come, go, he will tell thee his errand.” The captive refused, nor could Miskwa persuade her to go, when she requested her to seek her mother and tell her that a warrior was to be her visitor, while she would return and conduct him to her lodge. The captive hurried away, and Miskwa returning to Oloompa, conducted him to her lodge. While proceeding along she learned the cause of Oloompa's errand, and she was wild with joy. She loved the captive maiden, and her heart fluttered with delight, when she recollected how happy her friend would be. There was nothing selfish in her disposition; she saw that they were to be parted, and yet she banished the thought and dwelt only on the happiness which awaited her friend. She was instantly acquainted with Oloompa; she was frank as if she had known him for years, and treated him with all the kindness of an old friend. If Oloompa was pleased with her before, he was charmed with her now; and scarcely giving him time to talk, she hurried him along to her lodge.