“What’s the matter, dear brother?” cried Mary, in alarm. “La-u-na—LA-U-NA!” he exclaimed, and, sinking softly down on his knees, applied his ear close to the ground in a listening attitude. “Dear brother William! _do_ tell Mary what ails you! What is La-u-na!” said the startled and distressed girl, with affectionate concern. “_La-u-na_—THE TREMBLING FAWN!” cried William, pantingly. “Listen” said Glenn, checking Mary when she was about to repeat her inquiry. A plaintive flute-like sound was heard at intervals, floating on the balmy and almost motionless air down the green-fringed vale. At times it resembled the mournful plaint of the lonely dove, and then died away like the last notes of the expiring swan. Before many minutes elapsed another sound of quite a different character saluted their ears. This was a rustling among the bushes, heard indistinctly at first, while the object was far up the valley, but as it approached with fearful rapidity, the rushing noise became tremendous, and a few moments after, when the trembling sumachs parted in view, they beheld Joe! He dashed through the briers interspersed among the undergrowth, and plunged through the winding brook that occasionally crossed his path, as if all surrounding obstacles and obstructions were contemptible in comparison with the danger behind! Leaping over intervening rocks, and flying through dense clusters of young trees that ever and anon threatened to impede his progress, he at length reached the spot where the little group still remained seated. Without hat or coat, and panting so violently that he was unable to explain distinctly the cause of his alarm, poor Joe threw himself down on the earth in the most distressed and pitiable condition. “What have you seen? What is the cause of this affright?” asked Glenn. “I—oh—they—coming!” cried Joe, incoherently. “What is coming?” continued Glenn. “I—Indians!” exclaimed he, springing up and rushing into the house. “They are friendly Indians, then,” said Mary; “because the hostile ones never come upon us at this season of the year.” “So I have been told,” said Glenn; “but even the sight of a friendly Indian would scare Joe.” “It is La-u-na!” said William, still attentively listening. “What is _La-u-na_?” interrogated Mary, again. “The _Trembling Fawn_!” repeated William, with emphasis, in a mysterious and abstracted manner. Presently he stood up and intently regarded the dim path over-shadowed by the luxuriant foliage that Joe had so recently traversed, and an animated smile played upon his lips, and dark, clear eyes sparkled with a thrill of ecstasy.