Then sprung up her light form before him, then crowded thick upon his memory associations of former days, and he saw her only in those moments in which she had been kind to him, or else when touching her guitar, with so much feeling and tenderness in her countenance, so much _naiveté_ in her manner, that all those graces which give power to females, seemed to settle upon her without any effort of her own. And when these recollections swept over his mind, and then, when her present situation with all its startling horrors followed on, his heart grew deadly sick, and nature seemed almost to yield to the struggle. It was like the whirlwind which lasts for a moment, but during that moment, threatens to annihilate every thing which opposes its progress. So was it with Rolfe, the storm of passion and grief had vented itself, threatening for a time to unthrone reason, yet it had passed, and he now remained comparatively calm and unmoved, and was again capable of action. To an uninterested spectator this scene would have afforded some amusement. For Earthquake could not exactly comprehend the cause of Rolfe's grief, yet sympathized so deeply, that when he beheld the struggles of his friend, and saw tears burst forth; involuntarily they rushed from his own eyes like a spring flood. A few moments and they ceased to flow; yet another struggle from Rolfe, a flow of feeling, and Earthquake's floodgates were again opened. “Come, Rolfe,” said he, blubbering, “no more of this, let us be moving, for my eyes leak like a cracked gourd, but the way I'll pay some of 'em for this, will be a caution for the future.” “Where do you propose going, Earth?” “Any where you please.” “Shall we return to the camp, and follow on after the maiden?” “No, I think we can fall on some better plan.” “Then give it to us.” “The only hope I see,” said Earth, “of finding the maiden, is to go up the Wabash, and learn where the gathering is, of which the Prophet spoke. The party he said were probably going there, and I think so too. If we can hear any thing of them, we will get some help and rescue her. This is the best plan that I know of, and if you say so, we will go along at once.” “Thank you, Earth,” said Rolfe, “I will trust every thing to you, you know best what to do. But think you they will kill her?” “No,” answered Earth, “if they intended to kill her, why didn't they do it at the river? it would have saved them a good deal of trouble. No, they will give her to some old squaw, who will perhaps take her in the place of a child she has lost.” “Then, Earth, let's go, for I am almost dead to know something more about her.” “Agreed,” said he, “but I think you are scaring yourself before you are hurt. I don't believe it's the same gal you think it is. But it makes no difference, Rolfe, who she is, if we can help her, we ought to do it; and I am determined to go on.”