_Annie_. As I live, I do not know what you are talking of. Nay, look; there is no one here, none that you need fear, most certainly. _Helen_. I saw him, his eye was on me; there he stood, looking through that window, smiling and beckoning me. _George_. Saw him? Who, in Heaven's name? This is fancy-work. _Helen_. I saw him as I see you now. He stood on that roof,--an Indian,--I saw the crimson bars on his face, and the blanket, and the long wild hair on his shoulders; and--and, I saw the gleaming knife in his girdle,--Oh God! I did. _George_. Ay, ay, 'twas that scoundrel that dogged us in our way home, I'll lay my life it was. _Helen_. In our way home? An _Indian_, I said. _George_. Well, well, and I say an Indian, a rascal Indian, was watching and following us all the way home just now. _Helen_. George! _George_. Then you did not see him after all. In truth, I did not mean you should, for we could not have hurried more, but all the time we sat in that shanty, while it rained, about as far off as that chair from me, stood this same fellow among the bushes, watching us, or rather you. And you saw him here t He might have crept along by that orchard wall. What are you laughing at, Annie?--I will go and see what sort of a guard we have. _Annie_. If you knew as much of Helen's Indians as I do, you would hardly be in such a hurry, George, I mean about this one that was here just now, for there are Indians in yonder forest I suppose; but since we were so high, I never walked in the woods with her once, but that we encountered one, or heard his steps among the bushes at least; and if it chanced to be as late as this, there would be half a dozen of them way laying us in the road,--but sometimes they turned out squirrels, and sometimes logs of wood, and sometimes mere air, air of about this color. We want a little light, that is all. There is no weapon like that for these fancy-people. I can slay a dozen of them with a candle's beams. (_George goes out_.) _Helen_. Do not laugh at me to-night, Annie. _Annie_. But what should the Indians want of you, pry'thee; tell me that, Helen? _Helen_. God knows. Wait till the sun sets to-morrow, and I will laugh with you if you are merry then. _Annie_. Why to-morrow?--because it is our last day here? Tuesday--Wednesday--yes; the next day we shall be on the road to Albany. [_Exit_. _Helen_. I am awake now. Watched me in the glen?--followed me home? Those woods are full of them.--But what has turned their wild eyes on me?