Ere long, Mary partially awoke from her state of insensibility, when all was dark and strange to her confused senses. She pulled aside the long hair of the buffalo skin that obscured her face, and looked out from her narrow place of confinement. The blue heavens alone met her view above. The incident of the seizure was indistinct in her memory, and she could not surmise the nature of her present condition. She turned hastily on her side, and the occasional bush she espied in the vicinity indicated that she was rushing along by some means with an almost inconceivable rapidity. She could scarce believe it was reality. How she came thither, and how she was propelled over the snow, for several moments were matters of incomprehensible mystery to the trembling girl. At first, she endeavoured to persuade herself that it was a dream; but, having a consciousness that some terrible thing had actually occurred, all the painful fears of which the mind is capable were put in active operation. The suspense was soon dispelled. Hearing human voices ahead, and not readily comprehending the language, she hastily rose on her elbow. The party of Indians dragging her fleetly over the smooth prairie met her chilled view. But she was now comparatively collected and calm. Instantly her true condition was apparent. She watched the swarthy forms some moments in silence, meditating the means of escape. Presently one of the savages turned partly round, and she sank back to escape his observation. Again she rose up a few inches, and their faces were all turned away from her. She gradually acquired resolution to encounter any hardship or peril that might be the means of effecting her escape. But what plan was she to adopt? The almost interminable plain of which she was in the midst afforded no hiding-place. Then, the speed of the flying snow-canoe, were she to leap out, would not only produce a hurtful collision with the hard snow-crust, but certainly cause her detection. The poor girl’s heart sank within her, and, for a time, she reclined submissively in the canoe, and gave way to a flood of tears. She thought of her gray-haired father, and a piercing agony thrilled through her breast. And she thought, too, of others—of Boone, of _Glenn_, and her pangs were hopelessly poignant. Thus she lay for several long hours, a prey to grief and despair. But some pitying angel hovered over her, and kindly lessened her sufferings. By degrees, her mind became possessed of the power of deliberate and rational reflection; and she was inspired with the belief that the savages only designed to exact a heavy contribution from the whites by her capture, and would then surrender her up without outrage or injury. Another hope, likewise, sprang up in her breast: it was, that the Indian she had been instrumental in releasing from captivity might protect her person, and, perhaps restore her to her father. She also felt convinced that Boone