“The time is up,” said the stern chief, as he opened the door of Rebecca’s chamber. “What say you—life or death to Harris?” “Let me see my father, even as he is—let me commune with him for one moment, and I will answer.” The chief led forth the girl; and as he passed two of his men he said, in his own language: “Watch the house; and when the fire is lighted at the stake, set the house on fire—both the white and black are in it some where. See that none escape.” Rebecca heard and understood the terrible order. The young woman ascended the pile, and threw her arms around the neck of Harris. “My father! my father! must this be?” “There is no preventive,” said he, “short of a miracle.” Rebecca sobbed into the ear of her benefactor, the condition of his release. “They will never release me,” said he; “they may make you an apostate, but they will also make me a martyr.” “My father, they have sworn the oath that has never yet been violated, when given from Indian to Indian, that they _will_ release you on those conditions.” “Has that oath never failed?” “Never—never, my father.” “Let me not fall into the hands of man,” said the prisoner; “in this hour, God, be my guide and counsel.” “What is the answer, my father? Remember, your life—your precious life, may be saved, and that of William,” she whispered softly in his ears. “Do not hesitate.” “I do not hesitate for myself. How, my child, is thy faith?” “Firm—fixed, my father.” “Will you renounce it, if by that you could save the life of William and become his wife with my consent?” “I would not renounce that faith to add one moment to _my_ life. Now, more than ever, do I see and feel its excellency. But you, my father, in whom it shines, may, by a protracted life, disseminate that faith to thousands.” “Shall I insure the faith of others by my own apostacy? You have my answer.” Rebecca gave one wild, frantic shriek, and was forced, almost lifeless, from the embraces of Harris. “And what says Dahona now?” “_I will not renounce my faith._” The signal was given, and the men arranged themselves between the river and the stake, and two or three sprung forward and applied their torches to the dry wood; slowly the smoke ascended, and then the blaze crept upward, while the loud shouts of the exulting savages drowned the prayer and groans of Harris and the wild shrieks of Rebecca. “Apply the tortures,” said the chief, and he sprung forward to give the example; when, suddenly, he pitched forward upon the fire, and the crack of numerous rifles told whence his death had come. In one minute the ground was filled with Indians of another tribe, and the survivors of the invading band ware escaping down the river. Through the mingled throng of living, and over the bodies of the dead, sprung one being upon the burning pile, and with a hatchet released the sufferer from his perilous position, as the fire was doing the work which the savages had left unaccomplished.