"Thou knowest not my wrongs and my revenge! Thou seest the arrow, but not the poison that is upon it. The maiden, whose race numbers a thousand warriors, returns not to her father's tribe ere she wring out the heart's life-blood from her destroyer. Death were happiness to the torments I inflict on him and the woman who hath supplanted me. And yet they think Oneida loves them--bends like the bulrush when the wind blows upon her, and rises only when he departs. What! give back the child? She hath but taken my husband and my bed; as soon might ye tear the prey from the starved hunter. This night will I remove their child from them--to depart, when a few moons are gone--it may be to dwell again with my tribe in the wigwam and the forest." "But I have not wronged thee!" "Thou art of their detested race. Yet would I not kill thee." "Help me to escape." "Escape!" said this untamed savage, with a laugh which went with a shudder to his heart. "As soon might the deer dart from the hunter's rifle as thou from the cruel pirate who has pronounced thy death! I could tell thee such deeds of him and these bloody men as would freeze thy bosom, though it were wide and deep as the lakes of my country. Yet I loved him once! He came a prisoner to my father's hut. I have spilled my best blood for his escape. I have borne him where the white man's feet never trod--through forests, where aught but the Indian or the wild beast would have perished. I left my country and my kin--the graves of my fathers--and how hath he requited me? He gave the ring of peace to the red woman; but when he saw another and a fairer one of thy race, she became his wife; and from that hour Oneida's love was hate!--and I have waited and not complained, for my revenge was sure! And shall I now bind the healing leaf upon the wound?--draw the arrow from the flesh of mine enemies? Thou must die! for my revenge is sweet." "I will denounce thee to him, fiend! I will reveal"---- "He will not believe thee. His eye and ear are sealed. He would stake his life on my fidelity. He knows not of the change." "But he will discover it, monster, when thou art gone. He will track thee to the verge of this green earth and the salt sea, and thou shall not escape." With a yell of unutterable scorn she cried-- "He may track the wild bee to its nest, and the eagle to his eyrie, but he discerns not one footprint of Oneida's path!" The pangs of death seemed to be upon him. He read his doom in the kindling eye and almost demoniac looks of the being who addressed him. She seemed like some attendant demon waiting to receive his spirit. His brain grew dizzy. Death would have been welcome in comparison with the horrors of its anticipation. He would have caught her; but she glided from his grasp, and he was again left in that den of loneliness and misery. How long he knew not; his first returning recollection was the sound of bolts and the rude voices of his jailers.