It was the Indian woman, Malaeska, with a forced smile on her face and looking wildly strange. She seemed larger and more stately than when he had seen her last. In her hand she held a light bow tufted with yellow and crimson feathers. When she saw his eyes brighten at the sight of the bow, Malaeska took an arrow from the sheaf which she carried under her cloak, and fitted it to the string. "See, this is what we learn in the woods." The two birds were wheeling to and fro across the garden and out into the open space; their plumage flashed in the sunshine and gushes of musical triumph floated back as one shot ahead of the other. Malaeska lifted her bow with something of her old forest gracefulness--a faint twang of the bowstring--a sharp whiz of the arrow, and one of the birds fluttered downward, with a sad little cry, and fell upon the ground, trembling like a broken poplar flower. The boy started up--his eye brightened and his thin nostrils dilated, the savage instincts of his nature broke out in all his features. "And you learned to do this in the woods, Malaeska?" he said, eagerly. "Yes; will you learn too?" "Oh, yes--give hold here--quick--quick!" "Not here; we learn these things in the woods; come with me, and I will show you all about it." Malaeska grew pale as she spoke, and trembled in all her limbs. What if the boy refused to go with her? "What! over the river to the woods that look so bright and so brown when the nuts fall? Will you take me there, Malaeska?" "Yes, over the river where it shines like silver." "You will? oh my!--but how?" "Hush! not so loud. In a beautiful little boat." "With white sails, Malaeska?" "No--with paddles." "Ah, me!--but I can't make them go in the water; once grandfather let me try, but I had to give it up." "But I can make them go." "You! why, that isn't a woman's work." "No, but everybody learns it in the woods." "Can I?" "Yes!" "Then come along before grandfather comes to say we shan't; come along, I say; I want to shoot and run and live in the woods--come along Malaeska. Quick, or somebody will shut the gate." Malaeska looked warily around--on the windows of the house, through the thickets, and along the gravel walks. No one was in sight. She and her boy were all alone. She breathed heavily and lingered, thinking of the poor lady within. "Come!" cried the boy, eagerly; "I want to go--come along to the woods." "Yes, yes," whispered Malaeska, "to the woods--it is our home. There I shall be a mother once more." With the steps of a young deer, starting for its covert, she left the garden. The boy kept bravely on with her, bounding forward with a laugh when her step was too rapid for him to keep up with it. Thus, in breathless haste, they passed through the town into the open country and along the rough banks of the river.