This was no unusual thing for him when he deemed himself safe from her observation. Upon the day in question, however, he had resolved to see her. The time had come when active measures were about to be taken by the United States Government in order to "suppress" (such was the term used) the Indians in Florida, and although none could know at that moment how difficult the undertaking would prove, all were alive to the fact that the work was about to commence in earnest. Information of this had reached the young Seminole chief; and he saw the necessity of removing his tribe from their present residence. Hence the council--hence, also, his visit to Alice Rody. He had determined to lay the facts fully before her, in order that she might name the time of return to her own people. Thus reflecting, he walked on towards the house tenanted by his captive. On arriving at the place he found she was not there; but some children playing near told him she had gone into the woods, and pointed in the direction she had taken. The young chief hesitated about following her. He was unwilling to thrust himself into her presence at a time she had, perhaps, devoted to self communion and repose. Turning in another direction, he wandered for some time purposelessly, taking no note of the locality, until he had reached the belt of the woods which Alice had herself traversed on her road to the old ruin. Wacora, however, entered it at some distance farther off from the skirts of the town. Once under the shadow of the trees he abated his pace, which, up to this time, had been rapid. Now walking with slow step, and abstracted air, he finally stopped and leant against a huge live oak, his eyes wandering afar over the sylvan scene. "Here," he soliloquised in thought, "here, away from men and their doings, alone is there peace! How my heart sickens at the thought that human ambitions and human vanities should so pervert man's highest mission--peace--turning the world into scenes of strife and bloodshed! I, an Indian savage, as white men call me, would gladly lay down this day and for ever the rifle and the knife; would willingly bury the war hatchet, and abandon this sanguinary contest! "Could I do so with honour?" he asked, after a pause of reflection. "No! To the end I must now proceed. I see the end with a prophetic eye; but I must go on as I've begun, even if my tribe with all our people should be swept from the earth! Fool that I've been to covet the leadership of a forlorn hope!" At the end of this soliloquy he stamped the ground with fury. Petty dissensions had arisen among the people he deemed worthy of the highest form of liberty. By this his temper had been chafed--his hopes suddenly discouraged. He was but partaking of the enthusiast's fate, finding the real so unlike the ideal. It is the penalty usually paid by intelligence when it seeks to reform or better the condition of fallen humanity.