“Undoubtedly, my Indian friends might find it in their hearts to burn them if they only had them. I was present at a spectacle of this kind, the other day, where they barbecued a traitorous Indian. It was not pretty, and I may say did not amuse me after the first gush, and I went so far as to kill the poor fellow with my own hand, to put him out of his pain. It would distress me very much to see any of your friends in a like delicate situation.” “What do you ask of me, William Jackwood? Do you wish to drive me mad? You could not—_could_ not be so base.” “I would do any thing for revenge,” replied the man, hoarsely. “I tell you, upon my honor as a man, that if you do not promise to be my wife—I know that you will keep your word—these men shall all die as I have said. Make that promise, and upon the day when you become my wife, all shall be set free except one.” “Which one do you mean?” “Tom Bantry; he is a cursed traitor.” “That man must be saved, at all hazards,” replied Sadie, firmly. “Of all your villainous band, William Jackwood, he alone showed a spark of pity when my unhappy father was cast into the furious flood, bound and helpless. What I would not do for love I will do for gratitude, and I give you my hand, if you will swear upon your honor that these men shall go free, and at once.” “You are sensible,” he said, eagerly. “I had not hoped that you would yield so easily, and I will make it the study of my life to make you happy as—” “Silence! Give me your promise and I will give you mine.” “I swear by the only things I hold pure—the memory of my mother and my love for you—that these men shall all be spared.” “And I promise to be your wife, if we both live. Oh, God, forgive me if I do wrong in this, but I can not see these brave men sacrificed, who have come into this deadly peril for my sake. William Jackwood, understand me fully, and do not say in the after times that I deceived you. I hate you—I shall always hate you—but I will be your wife.” “All right,” said Jackwood, with a light laugh. “I will try to change your opinion of me when we are married. And now you are at liberty, and I will leave it to you to tell Black-Hawk that you have changed your mind, while I prepare to leave him. The chief has not used me well, and I do not fight the battles of those who do not treat me as a friend.” She went away with drooping head, and he stood in the same spot, moodily tapping his boot-leg with a small switch he carried. He was not fully satisfied, although he had gained the stake for which he had been playing so long. She had told him that she hated him, and had as good as said she loved Charles Melton, and yet had promised to be his wife. As he stood there, a man panting for breath and bleeding from several wounds, rushed up to him, and in his disfigured countenance he saw something which reminded him of Dick Garrett, and stopped him. “Dick, what is the matter?”