“Indeed, Reginald,” said the Colonel, “I have seen among them so much cruelty, cunning, and drunkenness, that the romantic notions which I once entertained respecting them are completely dissipated. Nevertheless, I confess that many of their worst faults have arisen from their commerce with the whites; and they still retain some virtues which are extremely rare among us.” “To which do you allude?” inquired Reginald. “More especially, to patience under suffering, a padlocked mouth when entrusted with a secret, and unshaken fidelity in friendship.” “These are indeed high and valuable qualities,” replied Reginald. “Moreover, it strikes me that in one principal feature of character the Indian is superior to us; he acts up to his creed. That creed may be entirely based on error; it may teach him to prefer revenge to mercy, theft to industry, violence to right; but such as he has learnt it from his fathers, he acts up to it more firmly and consistently than we do, ‘who know the right and still the wrong pursue.’” “Your observation is just,” replied his father; “they are benighted, and do many of the deeds of darkness. What shall we say of those who do them under the light of a noonday sun?” “And yet,” said Lucy, “this Wingenund seems half a Christian, and more than half a gentleman, either by nature, or by the instructions of the strange being he calls the Prairie–bird!” “Upon my word, Lucy,” said her brother, with a malicious smile, “I thought, while the lad was speaking of his sister on the Prairie, his eyes were strangely fixed upon the white lady in the wigwam. It is fortunate he is going soon; and still more fortunate that a certain cruising captain is not returned from the West Indies.” As this impertinent speech was made in a whisper, it did not reach Aunt Mary or the Colonel; and the only reply it drew from Lucy, was a blushing threat of a repetition of the same punishment which she had inflicted in the morning for a similar offence. He begged pardon, and was forgiven; soon after which the little party broke up and retired to rest. Meantime Baptiste, who knew that the well–intentioned offer of a bed–room and its comforts would be a great annoyance to Wingenund, took the lad out with him to a dry barn behind the house, where there was an abundant supply of clean straw, and where he intended to lodge him for the night. “Wingenund,” said he, “you will rest here for some hours; but we must go long before daylight to meet War–Eagle, according to my promise.” “I will be ready,” replied the youth; and casting himself down on a bundle of straw, in five minutes his wounds and fatigues were forgotten in a refreshing sleep, over which hovered the bright dreams of youth, wherein the sweet tones of his sister’s voice were confused with the blue eyes of Lucy; and yet withal, a sleep such as guilt can never know, and the wealth of the Indies cannot purchase.