The Indian bowed to the maiden, and prepared to leave the hut. Suddenly, a hand was laid on his shoulder. At this unexpected touch, in spite of his self-command, the chief could not repress a start of terror. He turned, and Red Cedar's daughter stood before him, with a smile on her lips. "I have heard all," she said in her pure and melodious voice.
The chief bent a long and sad look on Doña Clara.
"Why this emotion," Ellen continued, "which I read on your features? I do not mean to betray you, for I am a friend of Doña Clara. Reassure yourself; if accident has made me mistress of your secret, I will not abuse it—on the contrary, I will help your flight."
"Can it be so? You would do that?" Doña Clara exclaimed, as she threw her arms round her neck, and buried her face in her bosom.
"Why not?" she simply answered; "You are my friend."
"Oh! Oh! I love you, for you are good. You had pity on my grief, and wept with me." Eagle-wing fixed on the maiden a glance of undefinable meaning.
"Listen," Ellen said; "I will supply you with the means you lack. We'll leave the camp this very night."
"We?" Doña Clara asked; "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Ellen continued, quickly, "that I shall go with you."
"Can it be possible?"