Of all those awaiting the approach of the Indians, no one suffered so much from seeing them halt as the young Irishman. For the first time in five years he had a view of that face, almost every night appearing to him in his dreams. She was near enough for him to trace the lineaments of those features, indelibly impressed upon his memory. If he saw change in them, it was only that they appeared more beautiful than ever. The wan hue of sadness, and that pallor of complexion, natural to a daughter of the South, had been replaced by a red suffusion upon her cheeks, caused by the chase, the capture, and the terrible excitement of the situation; and she seemed to glow with beauty. And there was something that at the moment rendered her still more beautiful in the eyes of O'Neil. During the interval of hasty action since entering the Indian encampment, he had found time to place himself in communication with some of the white captives, her companions on the journey. From them he had learnt enough to know, that Clara Blackadder was yet unwedded; something, too, of her mood of habitual melancholy, as if there was a void in her heart, none of them understood! As he knelt behind the cedar-trees, expectant of her return, he had indulged in sweet conjectures as to its cause; and when he saw her upon the ridge, riding down as it were into his arms, a thrill of delightful anticipation passed over his spirit. He could scarce restrain himself from rushing forth to receive her; and it was with difficulty the old trapper could keep him silent in his concealment. Still more difficult as the Indians halted on the hill. "They may ride off again," said he, in an agonised whisper, to his more patient comrade. "Supposing they suspect our presence? They may gallop off, and take her along with them? We have no horses to follow. We should never overtake them afoot." "You kedn't ef we charged on 'em now. They're ayont the carry o' our guns. Ef they git a glimps o' one o' us, they'll be sartin to stampede. Don't show the tip o' yur nose, Ned; for yur life, don't!" The counsel might not have been heeded. O'Neil was in an agony of impatient apprehension. It seemed so easy to rush up to the summit of the ridge, and rescue her he so dearly loved. He felt as if he could have outrun the swiftest horse, and alone vanquished the full band of savages that surrounded her! Yielding to the impetuosity of his long-constrained passion, he might have made the suicidal attempt, had he not been stayed by the next movement of the Indians, who, to the surprise of all, both prisoners and trappers, were seen to turn their backs upon the encampment, leaving the young girl in the charge of a single savage! Even then Orton found it difficult to restrain O'Neil from leaping out from his ambush and rushing toward his beloved. It seemed now so easy to rescue her! The old trapper was again compelled to use force, throwing his arms around and holding him in his place.