“She can do so,” replied the guard; “but death follows her steps if she goes without it.” Miskwa made no answer, but leaving the cabin, went, apparently, towards the most crowded part of the town. “Dost not our brother fear?” said Oloompa, addressing the guard, “she goes so far, his eyes cannot follow her.” “Her mother is here;” was the answer. “Her love for her mother is a strong cord; it will draw her back. But if she escapes, the wrath of the Prophet would descend on our head. She must sure return;—will our brother watch her?” Oloompa answered that he would, and relieving himself from his rifle and hunting accoutrements, he deposited them at the cabin door, thinking, that in so doing, he would strengthen the confidence which seemed already to have sprung up between himself and the sentinel, and it would also give him an excuse for returning to the cabin in the event of his wishing it. He then hastened away to keep a watch upon Miskwa. Getting without sight of the guard, he approached her, a hurried recognition took place; then withdrawing beyond the reach of observation, they recounted to each other all that had happened since they parted, and dwelt upon their present painful situation. There was little time for regret, and they began to discuss what was best to be done. Miskwa told him that she had been permitted by the Prophet to venture abroad, under the belief on his part, that she was to be Tecumseh's bride; but denied, positively, that she had any such intention. For herself, being unrestrained, she now had no care, and all her alarm was for her mother and the captive maiden. What fate awaited them she knew not, yet her fears caused her to anticipate the worst. What was to be the result of the coming struggle, or what influence it might exert upon the conduct of the Prophet towards them, it was impossible to foretell. Oloompa hearing these things, suggested to her the possibility there was of her escaping with the pale face maiden. The hunters were without the town, awaiting their coming, and ready to defend both at the hazard of their lives. But with the discussion came proofs that it was impracticable. For, even were the sentinel despatched who guarded the cabin, the town was filled with warriors, passing in every direction; their flight would surely be observed, and a sudden death pay the penalty of their attempt. Could they succeed in getting without the walls, Netnokwa was old and decrepid, and would most certainly be overtaken. Oloompa then persuaded her to leave her mother, and endeavoured to convince her that a worse fate awaited her than she apprehended. “No,” said the maiden, “when Miskwa was helpless, her mother nursed her. Miskwa will live or die with her mother.”