Maud had risen, and, hearing this appeal, she drew back meekly, assumed a manner of forced composure, and signed to the men to proceed. On this intimation, the body was raised, and the melancholy procession resumed its march.
For the purpose of concealment, Joyce led the way into the bed of the stream, leaving Maud waiting their movements, a little deeper within the forest. As soon as he and his fellow-bearers were in the water, Joyce turned and desired Nick to escort the young lady in, again, on dry land, or by the path along which she had come out. This said, the serjeant and his companions proceeded. Maud stood gazing on the sad spectacle like one entranced, until she felt a sleeve pulled, and perceived the Tuscarora at her side.
"No go to Hut," said Nick, earnestly; "go wid Wyandotté."
"Not follow my dear father's remains--not go to my beloved mother in her anguish. You know not what you ask, Indian--move, and let me proceed."
"No go home--no use--no good. Cap'in dead--what do widout commander. Come wid Wyandotté--find major--den do some good."
Maud fairly started in her surprise. There seemed something so truly useful, so consoling, so dear in this proposal, that it instantly caught her ear.
"Find the Major!" she answered. "Is that possible, Nick? My poor father perished in making that attempt--what hope can there be then for my success?" "Plenty hope--much as want--all, want. Come wid Wyandotté--he great chief--show young squaw where to find broder."
Here was a touch of Nick's consummate art. He knew the female bosom so well that he avoided any allusion to his knowledge of the real relation between Robert Willoughby and Maud, though he had so recently urged her want of natural affinity to the family, as a reason why she should not grieve. By keeping the Major before her eyes as a brother, the chances of his own success were greatly increased. As for Maud, a tumult of feeling came over her heart at this extraordinary proposal. To liberate Bob, to lead him into the Hut, to offer his manly protection to her mother, and Beulah, and little Evert, at such an instant, caught her imagination, and appealed to all her affections.
"Can you do this, Tuscarora"--she asked, earnestly, pressing her hand on her heart as if to quiet its throbbings. "Can you really lead me to Major Willoughby, so that I may have some hope of liberating him?"
"Sartain--you go, he come. I go, he no come. Don't love Nick--t'ink all Injin, one Injin--t'ink one Injin, all Injin. You go, he come--he stay, find more knife, and die like Cap'in. Young squaw follow Wyandotté, and see."