She first endeavoured to recall the situation of the principal objects in the village. She did not, however, require any effort of memory, for she could see distinctly where her brother was bound, and the path that led to this point. The storm's spirits were her friends: without the lightning she could have accomplished nothing. There was a turn in the path that led through the village, and once or twice she was at a loss how to proceed. She would not be dismayed, though at times she feared her enemies would hear the loud beatings of her heart. Guided by the lightning, and resting for a moment when she feared her footfall would give the alarm, she at length reached the spot. There had been no rest for the younger Chippeway. With the heart-crushing spectacle before his eyes, he had only given way to a horror at his father's sufferings, far more dreadful to witness than to endure. There was, besides, the anticipation of his own. Again and again he looked at the strong cords that bound him. Could he for a short time possess the knife his enemies had wrested from him! Useless, indeed, to him, without assistance! Softer feelings, too, came in turn. His wife had been murdered before his eyes, his young son crushed under the feet of those who now lay sleeping tranquilly around him. The weary night was wearing on. There would be no breaking of the day to him. There was no hope, but that which pointed to the unknown future; no light but that which glimmered from the silent land. A slight noise arouses his acute senses, and he turns his head to that part of the village where were the greatest number of lodges. It might be that the footstep was that of some one of his foes, determined alone to enjoy the sight of his death. Oh! what joy thus to be saved the reproaches of his enemies, the laughing of the women, the sneers of all. Eagerly he peers through the darkness, and the first brilliant flash shows him the pale face of his sister, as she advances towards him. Very near him slept, in a wigwam, two warriors who had the charge of him. They might awake: this thought made the very pulses of his life stand still. For at once he understood his sister's intention. He knew her courage; he also knew that without an object she would not be thus incurring the risk of arousing their enemies. Another flash, and she stood close by his side--her hand was upon his, as she felt for the thongs that bound him. One by one they were cautiously severed--slowly, for the slightest noise might be fatal. It was hard work, too, for the maiden, for the sinews were like iron, and her strength failed her under the repeated efforts she was obliged to make. There was no word uttered,--their hearts silently conversed with each other. Time passed, and he was almost free; he was himself severing the last bond that detained him.