They paused under a grove of live oaks, in the shadow of which Carrol perceived a horse. "It is yours," said Nelatu, "follow the straight path, and you are free." "Nelatu," said the backwoodsman, "you've done me a great sarvice. I'm goin' to give you a bit of advice in return for it--" "Give up the angeliferous critter that's your prisoner; send her back to her own people, and forget her!" "If I could forget her, you mean?" "Wal, I don't know much myself about them thar things; only my advice is--Give her up! You'll be a deal happier," he added, suddenly waxing impassioned. "That ere gal am as much above either you or me, or the likes of us, as the genooine angels air above all mortals. Therefor' give her up, lad--give her up!" Again pressing Nelatu's hand in his, the old hunter climbed into the saddle, gave a kick to the horse, and rode off a free man. "Kim up, ye Seminole critter!" said he to the animal he bestrode, "an' take me once more to the open savannas; for, durn me! if this world arn't gettin' mixed up so, thet it's hard for a poor ignorant feller like me to know whether them that call 'emselves civilised air more to be thought on than them air savages, or _wisey wersey_." The question was one that has puzzled clearer brains than those of Cris Carrol. CHAPTER FORTY. THE TALE OF AN INDIAN CHIEF. As the old hunter has ridden out of our sight for ever, let us return to the Indian town, where Alice Rody was so strangely domiciled. Her people had buried the ill-fated Sansuta near the old fort. The wild flowers she had loved so well had already blossomed over her grave. Wacora and Nelatu had both been present--both much affected. The events of the contest had called them away immediately afterwards. Wacora remained absent, but his cousin had made a stolen visit to the town, as shown by the incidents already related. The search for the escaped captive was carried on for some time with vigour, but was at length abandoned. Meanwhile, the other captive's life passed without incident. The aid she had given the backwoodsman had afforded her the greatest pleasure. She had been informed of his capture immediately after his condemnation, and was resolved to help him in his escape. She did not know of Nelatu's presence near the scene, nor of his well-timed assistance. The Indian youth had ridden many miles that evening, merely to stand and gaze at her window. To feel that he was near her seemed a happiness to him. He departed without even seeing her. Weeks had elapsed since the Indian maiden had been laid to rest within the old fort. Alice often visited the spot. And there Wacora, who had once, more returned to the town again, saw her. She was resting on the same stone where Sansuta's head had rested on her bosom. On perceiving the chief's approach she rose to her feet, as if to quit the spot. "Does my coming drive you away?" he asked. "Not that; but it is growing late, and I must return to my prison."