"The heart of Muck-a-kee will be glad when the White Lily is again in the arms of the brave she loves. Her skin is as the dawn of a summer morning, her hair soft as the silk of the maize, and her eyes like the stars shining in the still water."
"And," resumed the girl, without taking the least notice of his compliments, "there will be no danger in our being followed and discovered?"
"By the one of her own race, whose heart is like that of the black snake?"
"Yes."
"When he can follow the trail of the swift-winged swallow, then he can find ours."
"That is good news. When shall he who is confined in the rocks be released?"
"As soon as the red warrior can do so without being detected. But the White Lily need not mourn. No danger can come to him, and it will be many hours before he will even suffer hunger. Let her rest in peace, and no tears stain her bright eyes."
"You are very good. How shall I ever repay you?" and she pressed his hand warmly, and looked up thankfully into his eyes.
The action still more fired his blood, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he could resist the temptation to clasp her in his arms. But the time was not yet ripe for such an action, and forced to resist he turned away and called in a loud voice:
"Metiz."