side his deadly knife, and burying it to the handle in its heart, while he worked furiously to enlarge the wound, at length contrived to leave it lifeless floating on the surface of the stream. This done, his first care was the safety of the Sunflower. He knew that while he continued there she would not return for her clothes, which were lying on the beach immediately under the point from which he had, on hearing the scream, leaped into the river, and therefore he had no alternative than to call out in clear and distinct tones that she might return without fear, as the panther was dead and he himself about to ascend the bank on the opposite side, to secure his rifle and await her coming, as, after the danger she had so barely escaped, he was determined not to allow her to be exposed, unprotected, to another. That evening it was made known in every part of the Saukie encampment by the daughter of the chief, that but for the sudden appearance and prompt action of the brave Wawandah, both herself and the Sunflower would have been torn to pieces by an enormous and savage panther, whose eyes were balls of fire, and whose teeth were like the wild boar’s tusk. Again were the plaudits of the camp bestowed upon him, and the head chief ordered a war dance to be performed in honor of the exploit. The dance was continued until late at night, but Wawandah did not mix in it. Thoughts were passing in his mind that little disposed him to join in festivities given in honor of himself. For the first time, that day he had seen enough of the symmetry of form of the Sunflower to know that she could no longer be as a mere sister to him. He felt that she must be to him as a wife or he must die. Giving as a reason, and it was a true one, that his arm pained him very much, he retired to his bear-skin couch long before the war dance had terminated. The Sunflower sat at his side, and with a decoction of herbs which she had boiled down to a thick gelatinous matter, ever and anon bathed the wound, and with a look so eloquent with thankfulness for this second serious service which he had rendered her, that Wawandah felt an irrepressible fire kindling in his veins, while his eyes were absolutely riveted on her own. “How came my brother so near me and so far away from the camp,” she asked, desirous of turning his thoughts from an admiration that pained, yet not displeased her, “and where has he left the White Bear and his companions. Was it well to come back without them?” she concluded, half reproachfully, for she began to feel the danger of her position.