When they reached the huts of the Senecas, and the Indians ascertained who was their prisoner, their exultation was announced in the shouts of triumph which Ichabod had heard. Ruth, however, without suffering any rudeness or ill-usage such as might have been expected, perhaps, in the present excited state of mind of the savages, was conveyed, by the direction of Panther, to the lodge occupied by Singing-Bird. She was not bound or confined in any manner, the savages relying upon their watchfulness to prevent her escape; and also upon the apparent fidelity of Singing-Bird.
When Ruth saw the entire absence of restraint in which Singing-Bird lived, and her apparent friendliness towards the savages, her mind recurred to the imaginative picture she had formerly drawn of the young squaw, separated by force from a husband she loved, and restrained by captivity, among enemies who were thirsting for his blood, she could not reconcile the present conduct of Singing-Bird with her own ideas of what should have been her conduct; and she felt a degree of disgust towards the young Indian beauty, who could so soon forget a husband so worthy of her affection as the Tuscarora.
"Can this be Singing-Bird, of whom I have heard so much?" asked Ruth.
"Who heard it from?" inquired Singing-Bird.
"I heard it at the cottage, of a Tuscarora chief who had lost his squaw by the treachery of the Senecas, and who were now seeking his life."
"Yes, Eagle's-Wing kill Seneca—and Panther must have Eagle's-Wing's scalp. Bad for Eagle's-Wing to kill Seneca."
"Can it be possible?" asked Ruth, "—no, it cannot be—that you are the Singing-Bird of whom I have heard."
The young Indian placed her hands upon her breast, as struggling with a violent emotion, and then looked at Ruth with an expression of entreaty which was not lost upon her.
"Hush!" faintly whispered Singing-Bird, "Seneca comes."
Ruth saw at once that Singing-Bird was acting a part, and appreciated that she did so from a feeling of necessity for the safety of herself, and perhaps of her husband. Scarcely had Ruth caught the whisper, ere the Indians who had stood by the door of the lodge departed, when Singing-Bird advanced towards Ruth, and said—