He was conscious of his danger in meeting the false-hearted villain, and blessed the thick veil of darkness which concealed his little bark from view. His only thought was to reach home before the star of Eldred’s fate had set forever; and kind nature almost seemed to stay her rapid wheels, to give the devoted Indian the only boon he sought, time to arrest the murderer’s knife. Having reached the landing, he bounded like the shot arrow, to the chamber where the wretched father paced the floor in the phrensy of despair. Arrowfoot rushed into his presence, exclaiming, “Where is Fitzgerald?” “Not returned,” replied the deep voice of agony, “the search is fruitless—Julian delays to confirm the fatal tidings.” “Hasten, Carlisle, if ever you hope to see your son again—he lives, but the hour for his death is appointed—the assassin waits but the sentence from the mouth of your nephew Fitzgerald to despatch him. Stand not motionless. Doubt not the certainty of what I tell you. I have pursued the ruffians and heard all the plot. In two hours, Eldred’s fate may be sealed: for the ruffians wait but the return of their leader, Julian Fitzgerald. Arm yourselves and follow me,” he cried to the gathering retainers of the household, as, seizing the first weapon that came to his hand, he darted towards the river where he had fastened the little skiff. While Arrowfoot is leading the way towards the lonely habitation where he had left the imprisoned boy, we will follow the covert footsteps of Julian. After he had prevailed on Colonel Carlisle to retire from the search, he dispersed the band under his guidance, in every direction, but the right one, and under pretence of making inquiries at a small fishing station, sailed down the river alone, intending to take this opportunity to meet the instruments of his dark purposes. The brow of McMurdough lowered with angry impatience, as leaning against an overshadowing tree, he waited the appearance of Fitzgerald. The assassin knew too well his rapacity for wealth to believe that any trivial cause could detain him, and yet the “slow paced night” had nearly finished her circuit without his coming. At length the glimmer of twilight gave place to the broad day, and still he came not. In a state of fearful doubt and uncertainty McMurdough strode backwards and forwards, resolving the part he should take.