But toil, is the mother of forgetfulness, and sleep was casting its drowsy mantle over his saddened musings, when his quick ear, detected a sound like a light, but rapid, footstep among the dried leaves. Nearer and nearer it came, snapping the brittle twigs that covered the ground.
He hastily concealed himself, and waited in almost breathless stillness the approach of wild beasts, or wilder Indians.
A moment more, and a young Indian girl appeared, bearing upon her head a birchen bucket. Light and graceful, with the freedom of the woods, she walked along until she came to a clear spring, and bending over, she filled her bucket with the pure fresh water.
Just then, a rare cluster of flowers attracted her eye, and with a maiden's love of the beautiful, she stopped to gather it, then poising her bucket upon her head, she would have started for the encampment, but she was fastened spell-bound to the spot, by an unconquerable terror.
Just opposite, and crouched ready to spring upon her, she saw a huge panther, his large eyes, like great balls of fire, glaring out from the intense shadow, already devoured her. She was paralyzed by an intense terror. The fearful eyes fascinated and bewildered her. In them she saw the frail bridge, that separated her from the spirit land.
She could not move, or utter a sound. The panther crouched lower among the tangled grass. A moment more, and he would spring upon her. The stream was drawing nearer, the bridge was shorter, from those fearful eyes, she could see the gleaming of the lights of spirit land, then a flash! a sharp report of the rifle, and the panther sprang into the air, and fell at the feet of the affrighted maiden!
She lived! but the waters of the spring were glowing red and warm with the lifeblood of the terrible beast. His glowing eyes grew dim and sightless, in the river of death, and in its place, to her sight appeared the handsome young gold-seeker.
With all her intense emotion, she was calm, as only an Indian maiden could be, but a deep glowing flush burned through the darkness of her cheek, as with timid grace, she gave her hand to her deliverer, and through the dusk of evening led him to the encampment, and to the chieftain, her father.
There was great excitement in the encampment when they saw the young girl returning with a stranger. Fiercely the Indians of the hostile tribe gathered round them, for the girl clung tremblingly to his hand, and by the fitful firelight he saw the dark scowls of passion gathering upon their faces, yet a thrill of joy filled his heart, he now knew he was by the camp-fire of the wild tribe of whom nothing was known, save their uncompromising cruelty, and that with them rested the secret of Death's Valley, the great Golden Boulder, and the glittering stones.
He had saved their chieftain's daughter, and they would not harm him, for well he knew the power of gratitude upon the savage heart. Calm and resolute he stood among them, without the shadow of a fear darkening his face, until he saw the fierce fires of cruelty that shot from their wild eyes soften into the kindly light of gratitude and friendship, as the young girl told her story with all the pathos and ardor which the almost miraculous escape, had awakened in her heart.