“What!” said Earthquake, “still afraid of the rattle snake?—You know it always gives warning.” Rolfe turned upon him with eyes plainly showing his dissatisfaction; for the speech, as he thought, was bitterly sarcastic, while Earthquake, believing him ignorant of what he had done, intended nothing by it. The darkness of the hour prevented Earthquake from seeing the change which had come over Rolfe's countenance, and Rolfe was about to go a step farther and vent his detestation of such an act, when Earth calling his attention, pointed to a gathering of the Indians. “See, Rolfe,” said he, “they are consulting as to where they shall halt, for they believe themselves far enough from the settlements now, to rest in safety for a few hours.” This luckily changed the direction of Rolfe's thoughts, and he asked, “what can be the hour of the night?” “Hard upon day-break,” said Earth, “you see it is darker than it has been, and you know it is always darkest just before the day dawns.” Leaving the hunters to hover about the temporary camp of the Indians, we must bring forward other parts of our story. CHAPTER IV. “These are the gardens of the desert,—these The boundless, unshorn fields, where lingers yet The beauty of the earth, ere man had sinned,— The Prairies.” BRYANT. On the side of a green sloping hill, along whose base murmured a little rivulet, lay the temporary camp of a roving band of Indian warriors. It was situated within that region of country which now forms the state of Illinois, but over which, at that time, they roamed with all the freedom of undisputed sovereignty. Peace had reigned for many years, and apprehending no danger, they had selected their situation, a regard being had more to comfort than security. Somewhat elevated, it commanded a fine view of the surrounding scenery, and surely eyes never beheld a prospect more beautiful.