“On him, more than any man,” continued Luten, “rest my hopes for the regeneration of his race. I imagine to myself that I see in him the future founder of Indian civilization. Yes, my young friend, ere you have attained the age which now bears me to the ground, you will see these savage tribes every where pursuing the arts of peace; you will see them kneeling at the altar of the living God, and putting to shame the boasted civilization of the white man. My old body will be dust long before that; but this hope, and belief, have sustained me amidst all the toils and privations of a life in the wilderness.” I looked anxiously in the speaker’s face; for the thought struck me that his mind had become unsettled. But his placid countenance and clear, steady eye, at once convinced me that what I had deemed madness, was nothing more than the enthusiasm of a bold and sanguine reformer. I could not find it in my heart to disturb the vision which afforded him so much delight by any expression of my doubts, and still less did I feel inclined to enter upon any further discussion of the merits of Tamaque. I had heard too much about them already for my repose that night; and every remark I had made on the subject had only served to call forth a fresh eulogy. I therefore gladly accepted Luten’s invitation to retire to my bear-skin couch. Many were the visions that chased each other through my brain during my broken slumbers, and Tamaque was connected with them all. Sometimes I saw him the king of a mighty people, with Mary at his side, crowned as a queen. Again I found myself engaged in deadly conflict with him, and waked just in time to escape receiving the death-blow at his hands. At another time I seemed to have got the better of him, and was about to plunge my sword into his bosom with fierce exultation, when my hand was arrested by a reproachful look from her, and started up and thanked heaven that it was only a dream. At length, however, I fell into a sound and tranquil sleep. But I was not permitted long to enjoy it; for, just at the dawn of day, a strange Indian rushed into the camp, yelling the war-whoop until the mountains echoed it back again. The whole camp was instantly in motion; in a few minutes the council-fire was blazing, and the Indians had ranged themselves around it.