“She has only fainted!” exclaimed Glenn, examining the body of the pale girl, and finding no wounds. “She is recovering!” said Boone, feeling her pulse. “God be praised!” exclaimed Roughgrove, when returning animation was manifest. “Oh! I know you won’t kill me! For pity’s sake spare me!” said Mary. “It is your father, my poor child!” said Roughgrove, pressing the girl to his heart. It is your father, my poor child! “It is your father, my poor child!” said Roughgrove, pressing the girl to his heart. “It is! it is!” cried the happy girl, clinging rapturously to the old man’s neck, and then, seizing the hands of the rest, she seemed to be half wild with delight. “Dod—I—I mean that none of the black noctilerous savages shall ever hurt you as long as Sneak lives,” said Sneak, looking down at his gun, which had been broken off at the breech. “How did you break that?” asked Boone. “I broke it over the yaller feller’s head,” said he, “and I’d do it agin, before he should hurt Miss Mary, if it _is_ the only one I’ve got.” “I have an extra rifle at home,” said Glenn, “which shall be yours, as a reward for your gallant conduct.” “Where is the chief? Is he dead?” asked Mary. “If he ain’t dead, his head’s harder than my gun, that’s all,” said Sneak. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” said Mary. “Why, my child?” asked Roughgrove. “Because,” said Mary, “he’s a good-hearted Indian, and never would have harmed me. When he heard you coming, and raised his tomahawk to kill me, I looked in his face, and he could not strike, for there were tears in his eyes! I know he never would have thought of killing me, when calm, for he treated me very kindly before I escaped.” “Maybe he ain’t dead—I’ll go and see,” said Sneak, repairing to the late scene of conflict. When he arrived he found the young chief sitting upright, having been only stunned; a gold band that confined his head-dress prevented the blow from fracturing his skull. He was now unresisting and sullen. Sneak made him rise up, and after binding his hands behind him with a strong cord, led him forth. “You did not intend to kill me, did you?” asked Mary, in soothing tones. The chief regarded her not, but looked steadfastly downwards. “He don’t understand you, Mary,” said Boone. “Oh, yes he does,” continued Mary; “and he can speak our language, too, for I heard him talking, and thought it was you, and that was the reason why I came out of the pit.” Roughgrove addressed him in his own language, but with no better success. The captured chief resolved not to plead for his life. He would make no reply whatever to their questions, but still gazed downwards in reckless sullenness. “What shall we do with him?” asked Glenn, when the rest of the party, (with the exception of Joe,) who had chased the savages far away, came up and stared at the prisoner. “Let us set him free!” said Roughgrove. “Kill him!” cried several. “No!” exclaimed Mary, “what do _you_ say, Mr. Boone?”