The Recluse, upon leaving his guest, proceeded to the west side of the little island, and cast a searching glance in every direction, to ascertain if any one were in sight. No boat was visible, and he immediately retraced his steps. Noiselessly he stole back to the couch of his guest, whom he found apparently asleep, though, in truth, the slumber was simulated out of deference to the anxieties of the old man. Several times he passed backwards and forwards from the chamber to the door before he had the satisfaction to find the object of his search. At length, a canoe was discovered coming up the river, containing two persons, who, on nearer approach, were seen to be Indians, a man and a woman, belonging to the remnant of a tribe, lingering about their ancient hunting-grounds along the banks of the river. The game, indeed, that once abounded in the woods, had disappeared, and the blue stream and swelling hills, and green plains, and intrusive industry and increasing villages of the whites, but reminded them of present weakness and former power. But, the sensibility to degradation was blunted. They had, gradually, become assimilated to their condition; the river abounded in shell and other fish; they could maintain existence, scanty and mean though it was, and they preferred this certainty to the nobler, but more precarious life of the Western tribes. As the canoe approached, the Recluse beckoned with his hand, and the bow was turned towards the islet. "Welcome, Esther," he said, "goest thou to the town?" A silent nod of the head was the reply. "Wilt thou carry me a message?" A nod of acquiescence answered as before. "Go, then, quickly, and tell John Elmer, that a man, wounded by a gun, is lying in my hut, and I desire him to come instantly." The squaw again nodded, and, without making an inquiry, with the natural apathy of her race, she said-- "What Father Holden say, I do." The Indian, who, until now, had been silent, here addressed her in his own tongue. "Can the Partridge," he said, "use her wings to no better purpose than to fly upon the errands of her white master?" "Ohquamehud," said the squaw, "is a wise warrior, and his eyes are sharp, but they see not into the heart of a woman. If the sunshine and the rain fall upon the ground, shall it bring forth no fruit?" "It is well," said the Indian, in a sarcastic tone; "Peena is well named; and the Partridge, though the daughter of a Sachem, shall flutter through the air to do the bidding of the white man." The eyes of Peena, or the Partridge, flashed, and she was about to return an angry reply, when she was prevented by the man whom she had called Father Holden. "Hasten!" he said, in the same language, forgetting himself, in the excitement of the moment, and unconsciously using the same figurative diction, "or the fountain of the red stream may be dried up before the medicine-man comes. Hasten! It is noble to do good, and the Great Spirit shall bless the deed."