The evening came on, and the little party embarked on the bright river. The breeze was fresh, dimpling it with smiles, and soft and fleecy clouds flitted over them, on their way to form a canopy of splendor the retiring monarch of day. The scene seemed to revive the spirits of Julian, and he resumed his animated tone, as he called over the roll for the excursion. “Where is our pilot Arrowfoot?” said Eva, looking round. “Oh, the Indian boy,” replied Julian, “I did not perceive he was missing. But you will not deny me the pleasure of commanding your little bark this last cruise we shall make together? I am sure I shall steer as gallantly as he, and as safely too.” “No doubt of it, dear cousin,” answered Eva, “but there is something singular in his leaving his post, without giving us any reason for it.” “I thought,” said Eldred, “he had gone with you, Julian. I hav’nt seen him since your return.” “No, indeed,” replied the young officer, “I believe he has no desire for my companionship. These Indians are strange beings; I would as soon think of taming the mountain eagle as of civilizing them.” “Slacken sail,” cried Eldred, “if I mistake not, that speck on the waters is Arrowfoot’s bark canoe. Yes, I know the dash of his paddle; he is making towards us with all his strength.” “What can the boy have been after?” remarked Fitzgerald, in rather an anxious tone: but the next moment the Indian came alongside, and bounded into the boat, leaving his own light canoe to drift down the current.