“Oh me! who are you?” demanded she, struggling to disengage herself, and unable to see the swarthy features of her captor, who stood behind her. No answer being made, she cast her eyes downwards, and beheld the colour of the arms that encircled her. “Father! Mr. Glenn! Mr. Boone!” she exclaimed, struggling violently. Her efforts were unavailing, and, overcome with exhaustion and affright, she fainted on the Indian’s breast. The savage then lifted her on his shoulder, ran down to the rivulet that flowed through the valley, and fled outwards to the prairie. When he reached the cave-spring, a confederate, who had been waiting for him, seized the burden and bore it onwards, in a westerly direction, with increased rapidity. Thus they continued the retreat, bearing the insensible maiden alternately, until they came to a small grove some distance out in the prairie, when they slackened their pace, and, after creeping a short time under the pendent boughs of the trees, halted in the camp of the war-party. The Indians gathered round the pale captive, some with rage and deadly passions marked upon their faces, and others with expressions of triumph and satisfaction. They now made preparations for departing. Mary was wrapped in a large buffalo robe, enveloping her body and face, and placed in the snow-canoe. The party then deposited their tomahawks and other cumbersome articles at the feet of their captive, and, grasping the leather rope attached to the canoe, set off rapidly in a southerly direction.