The horses’ heads were accordingly turned in that direction, and the little party swept on.
CHAPTER VI.
A HAPPY MEETING.
Two months passed succeeding the events already recorded.
The scene is laid in an Indian village on the banks of the Sweetwater river, and the hour just before sunset.
In a lodge, considerably larger than the others, the curtain-door of which is lifted, sits a young girl, gazing out upon the river and woodlands.
Her head is supported on her hand, a look of deep sadness overspreads her features, and her soft, dark eyes are full of tears. It is Marion Verne, who, since the night of her capture, has been a prisoner among the Indians. She was adopted by the sachem of the tribe, to be a companion for his daughter, and had been treated with kindness. But she felt as if utterly forsaken—so far from home and friends, with no one but savages for company, and with no prospect of escape. Could she spend her life with these creatures? she asked herself for the hundredth time. No; a thousand times no; and yet how could she avert her fate? Of late a new trouble had come upon her. A young chief, named the Panther, had offered her the honor of becoming his squaw, and as An-ga-ta, (the sachem,) favored his suit, the poor girl was in despair.
Her musings were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Neenah, the daughter of An-ga-ta.
“My sister is sad,” she said, in broken English, which she had learned from Marion. “Can Neenah help her? She does not like to see the Dark Eyes unhappy.”
“Would not Neenah be sad if An-ga-ta wished her to marry a brave she did not love?” asked Marion.
The Indian girl nodded. “Neenah would. Does not the Dark Eyes love the Panther? He is very good and brave. Long ago he had eyes for Neenah and ears for her words. Since Dark Eyes came he sees only her,” said the girl, sadly.