In this manner he was taken in a trap of his own making, as many a better and wiser man of the world has been, and daily is; and it was no melioration of his distress to think he had whelmed his associates in his ruin, and defeated the best and last hopes of his benefactress. It was with such feelings at his heart, that he was dragged up to the fire, to be exulted over and scolded at as long as it should seem good to his captors. But the latter, exhausted by the day's revels, and satisfied with their victory, so complete and so bloodless, soon gave over tormenting him, resolving, however, that he should be soundly beaten at the gantelope on the morrow, for the especial gratification, and in honour, of the Wyandott party, their guests. This resolution being made, he was, like Roland and Nathan, led away bound, each being bestowed in a different hut, where they were committed to safer guards than had been appointed to watch over Edith; and, in an hour after, the village was again wrapped in repose. The last to betake themselves to their rest were Doe, and his confederate, Braxley, the latter of whom had been released from his disagreeable bonds, when Edith was carried back to the tent. It was while following Doe to his cabin, that he discovered the loss of the precious document upon the possession of which he had built so many stratagems, and so many hopes of success. His agitation and confusion were so great at the time of Nathan's assault, that he was wholly unaware it had been taken from him by this assailant; and Doe, to whom its possession opened newer and bolder prospects, and who had already formed a design for using it to his own advantage, effected to believe that he had dropped it on the way, and would easily recover it on the morrow, as no Indian could possibly attach the least value to it. Another subject of agitation to Braxley, was the reappearance of his rival; who, however, Doe assured him, was "now as certainly a dead man, as if twenty bullets had been driven through his body."--"He is in the hands of the Old Vulture," said he, grimly, "and he will burn in fire jist as sure as _we_ will, Dick Braxley, when the devil gits us!--that is, unless we ourselves save him!" "We, Jack!" said the other, with a laugh: "and yet who knows how the wind may blow _you_? But an hour ago you were as remorseful over the lad's supposed death as you are now apparently indifferent what befalls him." "It is true," replied Doe, coolly: "but see the difference! When the Piankeshaws were burning him,--or when I thought the dogs were at it,--it was a death of _my_ making for him: it was _I_ that helped him to the stake. But here the case is altered. He comes here on his own hook; the Injuns catch him on his own hook; and, d--n them, they'll burn him on his own hook! and so it's no matter of my consarning. There's the root of it!"