The party then entered the house, leading in the chief, and soon after Sneak had a bright fire blazing on the hearth. The food that remained from the last repast amply sufficed, the captive refusing to partake with them, and Joe having dined during the last twelve miles of the journey on the way. “How we’ll be able to keep this Indian here, when we go out, I should like to know,” said Joe, regarding the manly and symmetrical form of the young chief, who was now unbound, and sat silent and thoughtful by the fire. “I think he ought to be killed,” said Sneak. “Oh, no!” said Mary; “he is not bad like the other Indians.” The Indian, for the first time since his capture, raised his head while she spoke, and looked searchingly in her face. “Oh!” continued Mary, thinking of the horrors of savage warfare, and bursting into tears, “you will never attempt to kill any of us again, will you?” “No!” said the chief, in a low but distinct tone. Every one in the house but Mary started. “You understand our language, do you? Then why did you not answer my questions?” asked Roughgrove, turning to the captive. The young chief made no answer, but sat with his arms folded, and still regarding the features of Mary. “He’s a perfect fool!” said Sneak. “He’s a snake in the grass, and’ll bite some of us some of these times, before we know any thing about it,” said Joe. “Be silent,” said Glenn. “If the hope that fills my breast should be realized, the young chief will cause more rejoicing than sorrowing among us. The wisdom of Providence surpasses all human understanding. Events that bear a frightful import to the limited comprehensions of mortals, may nevertheless be fraught with inestimable blessings. Even the circumstance of your capture, Mary, however distressing at the time to yourself and to all your friends, may some day be looked upon as a happy and fortunate occurrence.” “I hope so,” said Mary. “God is great—is present everywhere, and governs every thing—let us always submit to his just decrees without murmuring,” said the old ferryman, his eyes brightening with fervent devotion. “They’ve a notion to preach a little, I believe,” whispered Sneak to Joe. “Let ’em go ahead, then,” replied Joe, who was busily engaged with a long switch, that he occasionally thrust in the fire, and when the end was burnt to a coal, slyly applied it to the heel of the young chiefs moccasin. “You’d better not let him ketch you at that,” said Sneak. “He’ll think its a tick biting him—I want to see if the Indians scratch like other people,” said Joe.