“Oloompa,” she cried, “tell Netnokwa I love her as a mother, and bear to Miskwa my fond, my sisterly regard. Tell her to remember one who can never forget her, and whose only wish is that she may have an opportunity of serving her. And need I tell you how pleased I shall be to hear of their safety? And oh! should happier days await them, bring her with her mother to my home, and again will Gay bless and thank you.” “May the Great Spirit watch over and protect you as though you were his only child,” replied Oloompa, turning from her. He then bade the hunters farewell, again cautioned them to hurry away with the maiden, and started forward to the Indian camp. As he left, tears flowed from the eyes of Gay, the manly bosom of Rolfe heaved with emotion, and even Earth, the cold, the bitter enemy of the wild race from which Oloompa sprung, felt deeply, and frankly expressed the high admiration he entertained for his noble foe. He also added his most earnest wishes that the storm which impended might pass away, and peace and happiness crown the evening hours of Oloompa. CHAPTER XXIII. “The double double double beat Of the thundering drum Cries, hark! the foes come: Charge, charge!—'tis too late to retreat.” DRYDEN. The spot where Oloompa left Rolfe and his party, and which they still occupied, was a small glade or opening in the forest about half a mile from Tippecanoe, and nearly the same distance from the American camp. It commanded a tolerable view of each, yet they were now rendered rather indistinct by the continual passing of dense heavy clouds over the face of the moon, and by a thin mist which also seemed settling over the land. For some time after he left them, they gazed in silence on the scene. In one direction, lay the Indian town, faintly discernible through the “struggling moon beams' misty light,” and apparently as quiet as though it were the abode of peace and contentment; for from it there came not a sound, and nothing indicated life therein, save the occasional gleam of a torch which suddenly burst upon the view, and then flitted away before you could mark its place. In another, lay the camp of the whites, equally quiet, yet wearing a less gloomy appearance, for their fires burned brightly, and imparted a degree of cheerfulness to the scene. When the flow of feeling consequent upon Oloompa's departure had somewhat subsided, “Come, Rolfe,” said Earth, “let us do something; and first let me advise that we go a little within the forest, for were any one now to pass here, we should be discovered.” “For Heaven's sake then, let us go;” said Gay, “and oh! Richard, let us escape quickly, for should they find that I have left the camp, they will come in pursuit.” “Fear not, lady,” said Earth, “they are now thinking of other things;—you will not be pursued to-night.”