In the cabin now, all was quiet. A small fire was glimmering on the hearth, just enough to show that around it were grouped Netnokwa and the two maidens. They sate in deep silence, brooding over their respective situations, and despair was stamped upon the brow of each; the bosom of Gay would sometimes heave with convulsive throbs, and a slight shudder, as if she was cold, would pass over her frame. Oloompa, still continuing to converse with the sentinel, carelessly withdrew his tomahawk from his belt, and filling the bowl of it with tobacco, entered the cabin as though it were a mere matter of course, apparently for the purpose of lighting his pipe. As he entered, there was a slight stir among the females, and when they discovered that his object seemed merely to get some fire, they moved that he might approach. The light was not sufficient at first to show his features, and advancing, he made a signal for silence; then taking Miskwa's hand pressed it affectionately, and whispered in her ear the word, Oloompa;—as though she had received an electric shock, was her whole frame agitated, and then, like the sudden bursting out of the sun, when the heavens have been obscured by a dark cloud, was the change in Miskwa's countenance from despair to pleasure;—her whole face sparkled with beauty, and she returned Oloompa's recognition, yet was silent. He then proceeded to stir the fire, and while he did this, Miskwa whispered to Gay, who instantly started up and gazing wildly about her, was by Oloompa hushed into silence. With agony traced in every lineament of her face, she gazed on him, and with difficulty articulating, she uttered in a suppressed voice the words, “Where is he?”— “Without the camp, and waiting for you,” replied Oloompa, at the same time pressing his finger to his lips, and pointing to where the sentinel stood. Gay could restrain her feelings no longer, but uttered a cry of delight; it arrested the attention of the guard, who, believing that Oloompa was frightening the maiden, called to him to come away, and let her alone; that her time would come soon enough. Oloompa whispered to Miskwa to leave the lodge and walk about in the camp. At the sound of his words, Netnokwa waked into life. He then lit his pipe, and fearing lest he should excite suspicion, was soon carelessly conversing again with the guard. The coming struggle was an exciting subject, and in it all other thoughts were apparently merged. The warrior now on duty would be relieved about midnight, and he was anxiously awaiting the time when, released from guarding women, he should begin to prepare to fight against men. Nearly an hour had elapsed since Oloompa left the cabin, when Miskwa presented herself at the door, saying, “the daughter of Netnokwa will venture abroad in the camp; it is the Prophet's will that she should do so when she pleases.”