This assertion Aunt Dillah repeated so frequently, that she at length came to believe it herself. The old creature had no idea that she was not the main prop of her master’s household, and we ourselves are inclined to think that Mrs. Wilder, unaided by Dillah’s strong arm, ready tact, and encouraging words, could not well have borne the hardships and privations attending that home in the wilderness. Weary and heart-sick, she stepped from the little waggon, while an expression of sadness passed over her face as her eye wandered over the surrounding country, where tract after tract of thick woodland stretched on and still onward, to the verge of the most distant horizon. Dillah, better than any one else, understood how to cheer her mistress, and within an hour after their arrival a crackling fire was blazing in the fire-place, while the old round iron-teakettle, or rather its contents were hissing and moaning, and telling, as plainly as tea-kettle could tell, of coming good cheer. At length the venison steaks and Dillah’s short cake, smoking hot, were placed upon the old square table, and the group which shared that first supper at Glen’s Creek were, with the exception of Charlie, comparatively contented. He, poor child, missed the scenes of his early home, and more than all, he missed his playmate, Ella. Long after the hour of midnight went by, he stood by his little low window near the head of his bed, gazing up at the hosts of shining stars, and wondering if they were looking upon his dear old home, even as they looked down upon him, home-sick and lonely, afar in the wilderness of Kentucky. CHAPTER VI. ORIANNA. Weeks passed on, and within and without Deacon Wilder’s doors were signs of life and civilization. Trees were cut down, gardens were made, corn and vegetables were planted, and still no trace of an Indian had been seen, although Jake had frequently expressed a wish to get a shot at the “varmin,” as he called them. Still, he felt that it would be unwise to be caught out alone at any very great distance from his master’s dwelling. This feeling was shared by all of Deacon Wilder’s household except Charlie, who frequently went forth alone into the forest shade, and rambled over the hills where grew the rich wild strawberry and the fair summer flowers, and where, too, roamed the red man; for the Indian was there, jealously watching each movement of his white brother, and waiting for some provocation to strike a deadly blow. But Charlie knew it not, and fearlessly each day he plunged deeper and deeper into the depths of the woods, taking some stately tree or blighted stump as a way-mark by which to trace his homeward road, when the shadows began to grow long and dark.