She dared not wear them, but in secret gloated over their possession as over the feeling which had prompted the gift. Sansuta, it will be seen, was a coquette, though one through vanity, not vice. She was innocent as a child, but inordinately vain. She had grown up without a mother's care; had been so much thrown upon her own resources; that all her faults were those of an untrained nature. Her heart was warm, her affection for her father and brother deep and true; but she was too prone to turn from the bright side of life, and tremble at anything with the appearance of dulness. Differently placed, this Indian maid might have become a heroine. As it was she was nothing but a frivolous child. With a generous man, her defenceless position would have ensured her safety. Not thus with Warren Rody. The son did not belie his father's nature. Crookleg had become useful to him in his scheme. This hideous creature proved far more subservient and trustworthy than the defunct Red Wolf, for he was all obsequious obedience. True, he sometimes glanced askance with an ugly look bent upon his young master, but the look vanished in a hideous grin whenever the latter turned towards him. What dark mystery lay hidden in the negro's mind, no one white knew, but all, by a common impulse, gave way to him as he passed. Children ran shrieking, and hid their faces in their mother's aprons; the boys paused suddenly in their play as he hobbled by, while the old gossips of both sexes shook their heads and thought of the devil as he approached them! He seemed only flattered by these signs of detestation, and chuckled with glee at the aversion he inspired. The Indians, meanwhile, pursued their usual avocations. The waters of Tampa Bay were dotted with their canoes. Troops of their children frolicked on the plateau, or clucked the wild flowers that grew along the sloping sides of the hill. The women of the tribe followed their domestic duties, and the whole scene around the wigwams was one of tranquil contentment. The white settlers were not idle neither. The fields were swelling with crops, which the planters had commenced to gather in. A goodly store of merchandise was collected upon the wharf, and several schooners had come to an anchor in the bay. Peace and plenty abounded in the settlement. But, as before the storm a small, dark cloud specks the bright sky, gathering as it grows, so was there a cloud, too small for human view, drifting over this peaceful scene which should carry death and destruction in its wake. Slowly and surely it was coming! CHAPTER THIRTEEN. A SUBTERRANEAN SNARE. A morning in the forest. What beauty! What delight! The wild flowers gemmed with dew--the quivering foliage vieing in colour with the emerald sward--the vistas dreamily grey and endless--the air balmy--the light soft and grateful. What a melody the birds make--a very paradise of sound!