The former had been the case with Peter and Margery. They liked each other from the first, and kind orifices had soon come to increase this feeling. The girl had now seen so much of the Indians, as to regard them much as she did others, or with the discriminations, and tastes, or distastes, with which we all regard our fellow-creatures; feeling no particular cause of estrangement. It is true that Margery would not have been very likely to fall in love with a young Indian, had one come in her way of a suitable age and character; for her American notions on the subject of color might have interposed difficulties; but, apart from the tender sentiments, she could see good and bad qualities in one of the aborigines, as well as in a white man. As a consequence of this sympathy between Peter and Margery, the last had ever felt the utmost confidence in the protection and friendship of the first. This she did, even while the struggle was going on in his breast on the subject of including her in his fell designs, or of making an exception in her favor. It shows the waywardness of our feelings that Margery had never reposed confidence in Pigeonswing, who was devotedly the friend of le Bourdon, and who remained with them for no other reason than a general wish to be of use. Something BRUSQUE in his manner, which was much less courteous and polished than that of Peter, had early rendered her dissatisfied with him, and once estranged, she had never felt disposed to be on terms of intimacy sufficient to ascertain his good or bad qualities. The great change of feeling in Peter was not very clearly understood by Margery, any more than it was by her husband; though, had her attention been drawn more strictly to it, she would have best known how to appreciate it. But this knowledge was not wanting to put HER perfectly at peace, so far as apprehension of his doing her harm was concerned. This sense of security she now manifested in a conversation with le Bourdon, that took place soon after Peter had left them. “I wish we weren't in the hands of this red-skin, Margery,” said her husband, a little more off his guard than was his wont. “Of Peter! You surprise me, Benjamin. I think we could not be in better hands, since we have got this risk to run with the savages. If it was Pigeonswing that you feared, I could understand it.” “I will answer for Pigeonswing with my life.” “I am glad to hear you say so, for _I_ do not half like HIM. Perhaps I am prejudiced against him. The scalp he took down at the mouth of the river set me against him from the first.” “Do you not know, Margery, that your great friend goes by the name of 'Scalping Peter'?” “Yes, I know it very well; but I do not believe he ever took a scalp in his life.” “Did he ever tell you as much as that?” “I can't say that he did; but he has never paraded anything of the sort before my eyes, like Pigeonswing. I do not half like that Chippewa, dear Bourdon.”