The hunters possessing now no clue whatever by which they could hope to find the maiden; and the unsettled state of the frontier rendering it dangerous as well as unpleasant to remain longer where they were, determined to return at once to Kentucky. The suspicion of Rolfe, that the lost maiden was she whom he had known in former days; and she whom alone he had ever loved, preyed upon his mind, until, what was before doubt, now almost became certainty. Earth did all in his power to cheer him, but his exertions produced scarcely any effect; worn with fatigue, and disappointed in the hope which had so long sustained him, that of finding her he loved, he became gloomy, and spent his time, brooding over visions of the past. This state of mind brought on a burning fever, and Earth, with a hope of recruiting him, rested on the bank of a streamlet which murmuring along, wound its way through the forest, and finally contributed its quota to the waters of the Wabash. The intense anguish which Rolfe suffered, added to the fever, produced delirium, and while labouring under its effects, he gave vent to the smothered feelings of his bosom. Earth watched over him, not with the care of a friend, but with affection deep as that of a mother, bathed his heated temples, supplied all his wants, and still held out the hope of recovering her, who was the cause of all his sufferings. It was the second day, and Earth was still watching over his friend, when, approaching him from the direction in which his own journey lay, walked with hurried steps, one whose garb proclaimed him a border settler. He approached the hunters, and after the first civilities were over, addressing himself to Earth, said, in an audible whisper, “I've got him,” and turning, as he said so, peeped over his shoulder. “Who?” said Earth. “An Ingen,” was the brief reply, in a still lower whisper, and he looked back again. “What do you keep looking back for,” said Earth, “afraid of a dead Ingen?”— “No,” whispered the stranger, “I'm in a hurry, good morning;” and he hurried away. “There, Earth,” said Rolfe, who had been roused by his presence, “you see the cause of the hostilities of the Indians; that fellow, most probably without the least cause, has shot one whom he caught out hunting.” “Then, there's a devil less;” said Earth, “But I don't believe I would have cared much if the Ingen had killed him, for he is good for nothing; you see he is scared now.”